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CHRISTIAN 



MEMORIALS OF THE WAR: 



SCENES AND INCIDENTS 

ILLUSTRATIVE OF 

EELIGIOIIS FAITH AND PRINCIPLE, PATRIOTISM AND 
BRAVERY IN OUR ARMY. 



HISTOEICAL NOTES. 

BY 

HORATIO B. HAC'KETT, 

FEOFESSOR OF BIBLICAL LITERATrEE AND INTERPRETATION IN NEWTON THEOL. INST. 

AUTHOR OF "ILLUSTRATIONS OF SCEIFTUKE," " COSIMENIARY 

ON THE ACTS OF IHB AFOSILES," ETC. 



BOSTON: -.,..__ 

GOULD AND LINCOLN, 

59 'WASHINGTON STREET. 

NEW YORK: SHELDON AND COMPANY. 

CINCINNATI : GEORGE S. BLANCHARD. 

1864, 







Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
GOULD AND LINCOLN, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



^ ^'^^ 



PREFACE. 



It is hardly possible that too many books should be 
written in illustration of the objects and spirit of the 
present war. Among them all, may there not be room 
also for one like this ? 

The object has been simply to gather up some frag- 
ments of this great history that otherwise might be 
lost. Most persons will agree that the incidents re- 
corded in these pages are worth preserving ; and yet 
from their nature, as not falling distinctly within the 
province of biography or history, and from their being 
scattered in so many different quarters^ they are liable, 
after having been read at the moment, to pass out of 
sight and be forgotten. 

I have put these materials together in this manner 
because I thought it might be a grateful service to 
the friends of our brave soldiers, as well as an act of 
justice to the soldiers themselves, and because I felt a 



VI PREFACE. 

hearty interest in the work. Facts Kke those here 
spread before us are adapted to give us our strongest 
impression of the intelligence, the earnestness, the 
Christian principle and heroism of so large a class of 
men, who have come forward to support the Govern- 
ment in this great emergency, and to give us also our 
strongest conviction that a cause which such men sup- 
port cannot and will not fail. The least we can do 
for those who thus lay themselves on the altar of sac- 
rifice for us is, to show ourselves grateful to them, and 
to cherish the memory of what they have done and 
suffered. History, in due time, will render to many 
of them its fitting tribute of commemoration ; but not 
to all. Such imperfect memorials as these form the 
only record that will ever be made of names not a few, 
and of deeds of suffering and valor never surpassed, 
which we and those after us should not '^ willingly let 
die." 

Nothing has been inserted here that I have not 
reason to suppose to be strictly true. It will be seen 
that the names of persons, the names of places and 
dates, have been freely given ; and when they are not 
given, it will be seen that the statements themselves 
bear with them the marks of their truthfulness. The 
interest of the fiicts lies in their sober reality. Ac- 
counts that might be thought by some very interest- 



PREFACE. VII 

ingy and entitled to a place here, have been excluded, 
if they were drawn up in such a manner as to seem to 
be written for effect. 

I have endeavored to give to the selections as much 
variety as the scope of the book allowed. The events 
related take place under circumstances more or less 
different, and serve in each instance to illustrate, to 
some extent, a new class of ideas or a new phase of 
character. This fact will account for the absence of 
some narratives which the reader may have seen else- 
where and may be disappointed not to find here. It 
was impossible, of course, where the noteworthy inci- 
dents are so many, to insert them all ; and it was un- 
necessary to mention those which are so similar to 
others that to insert them would be to repeat very 
nearly the same things. 

The author's task has been chiefly that of selection 
and arrangement, but not without some additional 
labor. I have inserted explanatory remarks here and 
there, sometimes in the text, and sometimes at the 
bottom of the page. I have made some of the arti- 
cles fuller, where the means of information enabled 
me to do so, and have abridged other articles, as it 
seemed, in the one case or the other, to agree best 
with the object of the present publication. It was 



Vin PREFACE. 

necessary to give some uniformity to the style of the 
book. I have felt at liberty to make occasional chan- 
ges in the language, such as the writers themselves, 
with an opportunity for revision, might be supposed 
to make ; yet taking care always never to interfere 
with the facts, or the spirit and tone of the original 
articles. With this exception, the articles verbally, as 
well as in respect of the subject-matter, have been left 
in the state in which their authors wrote them in the 
presence of the scenes and events which they de- 
scribe ; and which, in consequence of being thus writ- 
ten, will be found to be distinguished often by touches 
of pathos and a vigor of expression which no skill of 
rhetoric could heighten or improve. 

H. B. H. 

Newton Centre, March 18th, 186i, 



CONTENTS 



, CHAPTER I. 

FIGHTING FOR THE GOVERNMENT ACKNOWLEDGED 

AS A CHRISTIAN DUTY. 

Paok 

X. The first Ohio Volunteer, 16 

2. Fu-st Christ's, then our Country's, 17 

8. Songs on the Battle-field, 18 

4. The Missionary's Son, 20 

5. Pastor and People enlist together, 21 

6. He made his WiU before Battle, 22 

7. The Two Brothers, 25 

8. The Bible in the Knapsack, 26 

9. The Pennsylvania Eoundheads, 27 

10. The Prayers at Home the Soldiers' Defence, 29 

11. Last Words of a Dying Hero, 31 

12. Dying for his Country a Privilege, 32 

13. A Chapel Under-ground, 34 

14. The Commodore in the Pulpit, 35 

15. They ask God's Blessing, 36 

16. The Indiana Hero Boy, , 37 



C O N T EN T S 



CEI 



CHAPTER n. 

SOLDIERS OF THE CROSS IN THE ARMT. 

1. The Aged Volunteer, 40 

2. John Lorenze, 41 

3. General Mitchell as a Preacher, 44 

4. The Model Prayer-meeting, 44 

6. A Starless Crown, 47 

6. Baptism in the Mountains, 48 

7. The Log Church, 49 

8. The Blind Soldier, ^ 53 

«. The Silent Prayer, 53 

10. Foote's Farewell to his Sailors, 54 

11. The Soldier's greatest Fear, 57 

12. Sorrow in the Homestead, 58 

13. Last Interview of the Heroes, 60 

14. Jesus will take me Home, 61 

15. The Story of Nolan, 63 

16. The Dying Hand on the Bible, 65 

17. Suddenly at Eest, 65 

18. Such are Ministering Spirits, 66 

19. The First Sabbath in Camp, 68 



CHAPTER m. 

COURAGE PROMOTED BY TRUST IN GOD. 

1. A Message from the Bible, 70 

2. A Word in Season, 71 

3. ]\Iarch of the Seventh N. Y. to Washington, 72 

4. The Dying Soldier's Prayer for the President, 74 



CONTENTS. Xl 

5. A Scene in the Log Church, 76 

6. Prayer in Time of Battle, 78 

7. He was only a Private, 79 

8. Eelics from the Battle-field, 83 

9. Words of the Martyr Stephen, 84 

10. The Soldier-boy's last Hymn, 85 

11. The Tract— " Come to Jesus," 86 

12. The Model of a Chaplain, 87 

13. Worship on the Flat-boat, 89 

14. Garments rolled in Blood, 91 

15. The Cabin a Bethel, 91 

16. Strength of the Ruling Passion, 93 



CHAPTER IV. 

CHEERFUL SUBMISSION TO HARDSHIPS AND SUFFERINGS. 

1. Heroism in the Hospital, 95 

2. A Funeral in the Forest, , ^ 97 

3. Wiping the Tears from their Eyes, 99 

4. The Soldier's Farewell, 101 

5. True to the Flag, 102 

6. Is that Mother ? 104 

7. Little Eddie the Drummer, 104 

8. What a Physician saw, 108 

9. The Hospital Tree near Fair Oaks, Ill 

10. The Wounded at Fort Wagner, 112 

11. The African Standard-bearer, 115 

12. A Singular Death, 117 

13. The Last Duty to his Country, , 119 



Xn CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER V. 

EFFORTS FOR THE SPIRITUAL WELFARE OF 
THE SOLDIERS, 

1. Prayer in a Churchyard, 121 

2. Regimental Churches, 122 

3. The last Soul-cheering Word, 124 

4. All One in Christ Jesus, 125 

5. Worship in Camp, 126 

6. A Regimental Revival, 12& 

7. Preaching by Moonlight, 131 

8. A Soul brought to Jesus, 132 

9. A Mother's Thank-offering, . . .'. 135 

10. A New Thing in the Army, 137 

11. The Lord's Supper in Camp, 138 

12. The First Sabbath at Beaufort, 139 

13. A Leaf from his Journal, 140 

14. Gift of the Prayer-books, 142 

15. Fortunes of a Bible, 143 

16. An Answer to Prayer, 145 

17. A Sabbath with the Contrabands, 147 

18. The Power of Sympathy, 149 

19. A Religious Service for the Veterans, 151 



CHAPTER VI. 

EAPP7 DEATHS OF BRAVE MEN. 

1. Death of General Mitchell, 154 

2. The Child's Prayer that of the Man, 156 

3. So the young Soldier died, ,.. 157 

4. The last Message, 158 

5. Surprised but Ready, 159 



CONTENTS. Xni 

6. Looking Up, 161 

7. Not dumb, though Speechless, 161 

8. The Doctor's youthful Patient, 162 

9. Surely I come quickly, 166 

10. The Student's last Wishes, 166 

11. The favorite Hymn, 168 

12. Asleep in Jesus, blessed Sleep, 169 

13. The Lowly Exalted, 173 

14. Waiting for Day-break, 176 

CHAPTER VII. 

OUR DEPENDENCE ON G-OD FOR SUCCESS. 

1. The President's Journey to Washington, .".... 180 

2. The Prayer at Fort Sumter, 182 

3. An Altar in the Tent, 184 

4. The Puritan Spirit, 185 

5. A Regiment on their Knees, 186 

6. Ilational Fast in the Army, 187 

7. The Army Hymn, 189 

8. General Anderson in the Sunday School, 190 

9. Pray for the President, 192 

10. Faith and Works, 193 

CHAPTER Vin 

INCIDENTS OF THE CAMP AND BATTLE-FIELD. 

1. How a Body was Identified, 195 

2. Dread of Temptation, 196 

3. Use Your Talents, 197 

4. Early Impressions revived, 198 

5. Unmarked Graves ^ 199 

6. Spirit of Sire and Son, 200 

2 



XIV CONTENTS. 

7. The Unknown Children, 201 

8. A Mother's Love, 202 

9. The Value of Seconds, 263 

10. Old Hundred at Night, 204 

11. A precious Testimony, 205 

12. Anecdote of General Sedgwick, 205 

13. A brave Confession, 207 

14. The Soldier's last Watch, 207 

15. Power of Forgiveness, 210 

16. Seals of his Ministry, 211 

17. A Step Onward, 212 

18. Generosity of a Slave, 213 

19. Principle stronger than Nature, 217 

20. Sights after Battle, 218 

21. Dying for a Benefactor, 221 

22. The last Victory, 222 

23. Do you remember Eckington? 224 

24. The Book will tell, 225 

25. A Soldier's Pocket Diary, ^227 

26. Gentle as well as Brave, 230 

27. Picket Duty, 231 

28. The young Color-Sergeant, 233 

29. Lock of Hair for Mother, 234 

30. Not yet too late, 235 

31. Soldier, are you Hungry? 23t 

32. Our good-hearted President, 237 

33. Brought back to the Fold, 239 

34. The Current between Camp and Home, 242 

35. Home-links of the War, 243 

36. A Plea for the Christian Commission, 246 



MEMORIALS OF THE WAR 



CHAPTER I 



FIGHTING FOR THE GOVERNMENT ACKNOWLEDGED AS A 
CHRISTIAN DUTY. 

The examples of our motto in this chapter show, among 
other proofs, how strongly the Christian sentiment of the 
country has been aroused by the object and issues of the 
present war, and illustrate the true connection between 
loyalty to God and loyalty to the government. The exam- 
ples have been selected with impartiality, from a wide 
range of religious and social life. They are specimens only 
(which is true also of other portions of the book) of the 
many similar incidents that have appeared from day to day 
in the public journals since the outbreak of the rebellion. 
They are instances of an unselfish, heroic devotion to the 
claims of patriotism and humanity, which, instead of being 
admired and praised merely, should rebuke our apathy if 
we are not in sympathy with such ideas of public duty ; 
which, at all events, shdlild strengthen the universal deter- 
mination to crush the rebellion, and save from overthrow 
our institutions of liberty, self-government, and law, to 
which these costly sacrifices are giving, if it were possible, 
new sacredness and value. On subjects of this nature 

15 



16 JfEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

facts supply the most effective teaching, and those pre- 
sented here may as well be left to make their own impres- 
sion, without amplification or comment. 



I. THE FIRST OHIO VOLUNTEER. 

The name to which this enviable distinction belongs is 
never to perish. Colonel Lorin Andrews, late President of 
Kenyon College, in Ohio, was the first man in that State 
to offer his services to the governor. Having raised a 
company by his own efforts, he was elected captain, and 
afterwards was appointed colonel of the Fourth Regiment 
of the Ohio Volunteers. At the expiration of the three 
months for which he had been called out, he enlisted for the 
war, and commanded his regiment until disease, contracted 
in camp, compelled him to resign. He then went home, 
already death-stricken, and soon ended his days. Though 
he had no opportunity to share in any actual fighting, he 
was considered a very efficient and brave officer, as well as 
a devoted, exemplary Christian.^ 

"I well remember," says Bishop Mcllvaine, in the ad- 
dress at his funeral, "Avith what pleasure he related to 
me a circumstance that had just occurred, which put his 
decision as a Christian to a severe test. On the previous 
Sunday, some good minister of the Methodist denomination 
had preached to them. At the close of his discourse, very 
unexpectedly to Col. Andrews, he called on him to pray, 
lirwas atrial. But immediately he saw what an opening 
it afforded him at once, in the sight of the whole thousand, 
officers and soldiers, — to the far greater portion of whom he 
was as yet personally a stranger, — to take his stand as a 

iThe compiler has learned these facts from a private letter. 



FiKST Christ's, tqen our cottntrt s. 17 

Christian, and as one who intended to walk before them in 
the confession of Christ. He therefore, without hesitation, 
stood up and j^rayed, — praying for his men and their fam- 
ilies. The impression was very strong and general; and 
he was happy and thankful. About this time, in expecta- 
tion of soon taking the field, he said to me, ' I have no fear 
that I shall not have courage enough for the dangers of 
battle. All my anxiety is that I may have firmness 
enough to be faithful and decided as a Christian in all the 
various circumstances in which I may be placed. I feel 
that to do that requires higher courage than to stand un- 
moved before the mouth of cannon. 

" Such a man," continues the bishop, " was fitted to have 
command in our army. He could be trusted. In writing 
to me about the motives which led him to become a soldier, 
he said he had no love or desire for a military life. It was 
not his taste. He did not covet military distinction. He 
was a man of peace and quietness. But he was moved 
entirely by the consideration of duty to his country, in the 
time of her great and awful trial. He said he had care- 
fully and solemnly, before God, considered his duty; and 
he had prayerfully arrived at the conviction on which he 
was acting.", 

"He died," says his successor in the college, "in the full 
enjoyment of his faith, and trust in his Redeemer, and, 
I believe, has gone to that perfect rest prepared for the 
saints in heaven." 



n. FIRST CHRIST'S, THEN OUR COUNTRY'S. 

Bishop Simpson, of the Methodist church, soon after the 
outbreak of the great treachery, delivered a sermon on the 
national crisis, at Chicago. It is represented as one of the 
ablest ejfforts of this clergyman, so distinguished for his 

2* 



18 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

power in the pulpit. A^ it was one of the anniversaries 
of the denomination, thousands Avere present to hear the 
discourse. Suddenly, at one point in the sermon, and as 
the fitting close of a most impassioned paragraph, he gave 
utterance to the following noble sentiment: "We will take 
our glorious flag — the flag of our country — and nail it 
just below the cross! That is high enough! There let it 
wave as it waved of old. Around it let us gather: 'First 
Christ's, then our country's.' " 

The efiect was electrical. Every heart resjDonded to the 
appeal. The sentiment, the preacher's manner, the solem- 
nity of the crisis, moved the great assembly as men are 
seldom moved under the power of human speech. 



in. SONGS ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 

The sanguinary battle of Shiloh was fought on the sixth 
and the seventh of April, 1862. The ordinary scene which 
presents itself, after the strife of arms has ceased, is famil- 
iar to every one. Heaps of the slain, where friend and foe 
lie by the side of each other ; bodies mangled and bleed- 
ing ; shrieks of the wounded and dying, are things which 
we always associate with the victories and defeats of war. 
But seldom do we read that voices of prayer, that hymns 
of exultant faith and thanksgiving, have been heard at 
such times and in such places. 

The following account was received from the lips of a 
brave and pious captain in one of the Western regiments, as 
some friends who visited Shiloh on the morning after the 
battle were conveying him to the hospital. 

The man had been shot through both thighs with a rifle 
bullet ; it was a w^ound from which he could not recover. 
While lying on the field, he suffered intense agony from 
thirst. He supported his head upon his hand, and the rain 



SONGS ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 19 

from heaven was falling around him. In a short time, a 
little pool of water collected near his elbow and he thought 
if he could only reach that spot he might allay his raging 
thirst. He tried ^o get into a position which would enable 
him to obtain a mouthful, at least, of the muddy water ; 
but in vain, and he must suffer the torture of seeing the 
means of reUef Avithin sight, while all his efforts were 
unavailing. "Never," said he, "did I feel so much 
the loss of any earthly blessing. By and by the shades 
of night fell around us, and the stars shone out clear and 
beautiful above the dark field, where so many had sunk 
down in death, and so many others lay wounded, writhing 
in pain, or faint with the loss of blood. Thus situated, I 
began to think of the great God who had given his Son 
to die a death of agony for me, and that he was in the 
heavens to which my eyes were turned, — that he was 
there, above that scene of suffering, and above those glori- 
ous stars; and I felt that I was hastening home to meet 
him, and praise him there; and I felt that I ought to praise 
him then, even wounded as I was, on the battle-field. I 
could not help singing that beautiful hymn : — 

' Wheu I can read my title clear 
To mansions in the skies, 
I'll bid farcAvcll to every feai-, 
And wipe my weeping eyes.' 

And though I was not aware of it till then," said he, " it 
proved there was a Christian brother in the thicket near 
me. I could not see him, but was near enough to hear 
him. He took up the strain from me ; and beyond him 
another, and then another, caught the words, and made 
them resound far and wide over the terrible battle-field 
of Shiloh. There was a peculiar echo in the place, and 
that added to the effect, as we made the night vocal with 
our hymns of praise to God." 



20 MEMORIALS OF TUE WAR. 

It is certain that men animated by such faith have the 
consciousness of serving God in serving their country, 
and that their presence in the army adds to it some of its 
most important elements of strength and success. 



IV. THE MISSIOXARY S SON. 

The memory of the devoted missionary, Rev. William 
H. Pohlman,^ of his saintly life and martyr death, is yet 
fragrant in all the churches. Let them add to this treasured 
memory still another as fresh and beautiful, — that of his 
only son. Lieutenant "VYiUiam Henry Pohlman, Assist- 
ant Adjutant of the Fifty-ninth Regiment of the New 
York Volunteers, who died July 21st, 1863, aged twenty- 
one years, of wounds received in the battle of Gettysburg. 

Late in the afternoon of Friday, the eventful third of July, 
his left arm was frightfully shattered by a Minie ball; but 
the brave spirit did not quail. " ISTo," he answered those 
who urged him to withdraw from the front, "never, while 
I have a sword-arm left to fight with!" An hour later, 
his sword-arm failed him too. Another ball, glancing from 
his sword-hilt, which it shattered, pierced his right wrist, 
severing an artery, and his battle-work was done. But 
not for him should the great work of the hour, the salva- 
tion of the republic, suffer interruption for a moment. 
"Boys," he said to the soldiers who would have borne him 
from the field already almost won, " stay in your places ; 
your country needs every man of you." And so he left 
them, regretting most of all that he could not recover the 
sword his mother gave him. Its empty scabbard, battered 
and blood-stained, but with its glorious legend, the key- 
note of his life, unmarred, "For God and your Country," 

1 He was a missiouary of the Ameiicau Board in Chiua, and lasit bis life by 
sbipwi-cck iu ISi'J. 



PASTOR A^D PEOPLE EXLIST TOGETHER. 21 

is now the most cberishecl treasure of her who filled a 
mother's place to the orphan boy. He reached the camp 
at last, fainting on the way from loss of blood, and was 
laid beside his beloved colonel. 

And now a new phase in the character of this knightly, 
nay, Christian hero, was to be developed. A trial, heavy 
for such as he, so full of exuberant vitality and rejoicing in 
his strength, was laid upon him, and he was cast into the 
fiery crucible of bodily anguish and bodily weakness. 
Sustained by strength beyond his own, nobly did he 
endure the test. His beautiful unselfishness and utter 
freedom from degrading vanity were most conspicuous. 
Withholding his name from the newspaper reporters, lest 
the sigh|; of it among the killed and wounded might too 
rudely shock the tender hearts which he fain would spare 
all needless pain, his first care was to break the news of 
his condition as gently as possible. For this purpose he 
dictated a characteristic note on the day succeeding the 
battle. Beginning, not with his own achievements or 
sufierings, but with an exultant announcement of the 
victory won, he adds: "But the usual good fortune which 
has attended me in thirteen battles of the war has forsaken 
me in the fourteenth engagement. I bear honorable 
wounds in my country's cause." 



V. PASTOR AXD PEOPLE ENLIST TOGETHER. 

A pastor in one of the Western States had in his con- 
gregation fifty-one men who had enlisted in the service of 
their country. They assembled to listen as they supposed 
to his parting address; but when he saw their jDatriotic 
zeal, he said to them, that if they were all going he should 
go too. At the door of the church they chose him as their 



22 MEMOEIAL^DF THE WAR. 

captain, and now pastor and people are fighting together 
in this great struggle for the national life and the rights of 
humanity. 

It is estimated that the chm-ches of the different Chris- 
tian denominations throughout the country have been rep- 
resented in the army, on the average, in the proportion of 
one to every seven of their male members. They have 
gone as volunteers, and not as drafted men. The churches in 
the older States, it is to be remembered, contain large num- 
bers beyond the military age, and thus, of those liable to 
serve, this proportion is greater than that of one to seven. 
Many of the Western churches have exceeded this ratio of 
membership, in the contributions which they have made to 
the ranks of the army. Not a few of the smaller churches, 
^ in the less populated regions, have been left almost with- 
out any men at home, clergy or laity. 



VI. HE MADE HIS WILL BEFORE BATTLE. 

I transcribe the following sketch, with slight changes, 
from the Boston "Journal," under date of June 18th, 
1862. Alas, that one so full of promise, more than a 
Marcellus in every augury of civic and private virtue, should 
only " be shown to us," and then be withdrawn ! 

Yesterday, the remains of the late Major Edwin M.Smith 
passed through Boston on their way to Maine. He was 
the son of the late governor of that State, and was of a 
character so charming and so rare that public testimony 
should be borne to his virtues and services. He fell at the 
battle of Fair Oaks, in the van, leading the Fifth Michigan 
Regiment of Berry's Brigade, in their splendid work of 
that day. " Better," said his general, " better that I had 
lost a hundred men than that brave boy ! " He was acting 



HE MADE HIS WILL BEFORE BATTLE. 23 

as the chief of that general's staff, and that true officer 
knew him well. Young Smith had just returned from 
Europe, at the age of twenty-one, when the war com- 
menced. Having gained much credit for his bravery and 
discretion, he was soon commissioned as major in the 
Maine Fourth, but at the urgent request of General Berry, 
finally accepted a place upon his staff, and acted as chief 
of his staff at the battles of Williamsburg and Fair Oaks. 
In fact, he led one wing, while General Berry commanded 
the other, in that brilliant charge and fight which saved 
Hooker's division, at Williamsburg. Smith there dashed 
forward with his Michigan regiment, and the Thirty-seventh 
ISTew York, and, leaping the enemy's rifle-pits, forced his 
way through the abatis into the strongholds with an 
impetuosity which astonished all. Four of the enemy's 
bullets passed through his clothing, but left him unharmed- 
So popular and beloved did he become with these regi- 
ments, that they would often cheer him as he passed. His 
heart though brave was tender as a woman's. His hand 
was always open to the needy ; and the sick found him the 
gentlest of all who breathed around them. Fond of all 
befitting sports, and active as a child, he was nevertheless 
of a mature and thoughtful nature ; having a real love of 
country and the highest reverence for truth and law. Frail 
in body, he had an exalted spirit and an energetic will, and 
won the love of all who knew him. When his horse was 
brought to the White House to be sent home, a Michigan 
soldier said, " There goes the noble horse that leaped the 
- rifle-pits at Williamsburg ! " " Yes," said his comrade, 
" he had a noble rider then, but he has gone ! " and the 
sturdy warrior could hardly utter his name. 

It was Berry's brigade which at the battle of Williams- 
burg came up just in time to save the day, after Hooker's 
division had been fighting at terrible odds for several hours, 



24 MEMOrjxiLS OF THE WAR. 

had exhausted their ammunition, and were on the point of 
giving way. At this critical moment, the newly-arrived 
soldiers, having fired five deadly rounds into the enemy, and 
repulsed five of their desperate charges, made that memo- 
rable charge, which recaptured all the lost artillery and the 
ground which the exhausted soldiers of Hooker's division 
had yielded. 

During the night of the fifth of May, which followed 
the battle, young Smith wrote in his journal: "We stood 
in arms amidst the enemy's dead and dying, cold, wet 
and weary enough. For all this bravery and skill our 
noble general was publicly thanked by General Heint- 
zelmau, and eulogized by General McClellan." But the 
modest journalist does not say, what was the fact, that one 
of the most distinguished generals openly pronounced the 
youthful officer himself " one of the bravest of the brave, 
one of the heroes of the day, from whom we might expect 
a future of great usefulness and honor." 

Before the attack on Yorktown he made a short will, yet 
in all the haste of a camp, he closed it by adding this 
remarkable paragraph : " And now, having arranged for the 
disposition of my worldly estate, I must say that, pos- 
sessing a full confidence in the Christian religion, and 
believinsf in the rio^hteousness of the cause in which I am 
engaged, I am ready to ofier my poor life in vindicating 
that cause, and in sustaining a government the mildest and 
most beneficent the world has ever known." 

So he gave that life to his country. Let his memory 
and that of our kindred martyrs be embalmed forever in 
the nation's heart. He was fit to live and fit to die, and 
his crown was ready for him. 



THE TTTO BKOTnERS. 25 



Vn. THE TWO BROTHERS. 



The following simple anrl touching letter is from the 
brother of John W. Chase, a member of Co. G, of the 
Fom-th Rhode Island Regiment, who recently died in the 
hospital in Carolina City. James and John were twins, 
and both members of the same regiment, — noble boys, of 
whom a friend writes very justly : " This letter will convey 
a touching idea of the loss which the mother has experi- 
enced in the death of one of these Christian youth, who 
might truly be called 'Cromwellian soldiers.' " With genu- 
ine patriotism, childlike faith in God, a filial and fraternal 
affection, James conveys the sad news to his mother ; and 
this is another instance, in the humble classes, of that gen- 
uine heroism which has been brought to light by this war. 

Carolina City, Saturday, 2Gth. 

Dear Mother : — I now take my pen to say that there 
has been a great change since I wrote last. John has got 
through with fighting, and with all his hardships and trials. 
He has gone to rest. His sickness was short. He was 
seized with typhoid fever, and soon followed Denham and 
William. This makes three deaths in our company. 

John wrote you a letter two or three days before he was 
sick. Then, mother, he was as well as I was ; so you see 
we cannot tell what to-morrow will bring forth. Death is 
certain, and life is uncertain. But the Lord knows best 
about these things ; and when he calls us, we have to go. 
Oh! I wish that I was in John's place! Thank God, 
mother, there is one consolation, that if we do not see each 
other again in this world, we shall in the one above. 

I prayed every night while John was sick for the Lord 
to bless him. I left him in His hands. It was so ordered 



26 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

that John was not to be shot in the battle-field, but to 
be taken by sickness ; and it has turned out all for the 
best. 

I have tried to do my duty since I have been in the war. 
I have felt that this was the place to remember and look 
to Him who is our best Friend. And he has proved so. He 
brought John and ine both safe out of danger in the field, 
and now he has called one of us to go to him. He may 
call for me next. I do not care, mother, how quick; for I 
can say that I am ready to go when God calls me, and I 
believe I shall meet John with the angels above. 

He died at four o'clock this morning. I send you a lock 
of his hair. Remember, mother, if we part with our 
friends here, we shall sooner or later meet them before 
God. 

I close by saying, do not take it too hard. The Lord 
bless you. 

From your dear son, J. S. C. 



Vm. THE BIBLE IN THE KNAPSACK. 

A gentleman from one of the Western cities, say^ the 
" Banner of the Covenant," at a recent prayer-meeting in 
New York, rose and said, — 

A few days ago, I was present where a body of soldiers, 
an entire regiment, having been drawn up in line, were 
asked if they would accept of copies of the Bible. The 
question was put to them by the commanding oflicer, after 
having stated that the citizens of the place, anxious to 
show their interest in them and to promote their welfiire, 
would be happy to supply each one of them with a Bible 
if they were willing to receive it. "Now," said he, "as 
many of you as are willing to receive the Bibles are re- 



THE PENNSYLVANIA KOUNDHEADS. 27 

quested to raise your right hands." The result was, (said 
he,) every hand was raised, and many tears were falling as 
they responded to the proposition. In addition to this, as 
the commander stood on the steps of the hotel, one of the 
distributors approached him, and gave to him, also, with 
appropriate remarks, an expensive and elegant copy of the 
Scriptures, in the sight and hearing of all the men. It so 
happened that one of the spectators in the crowd was a 
missionary from Turkey. " Oh," said the missionary, " I 
never expected to live to see such a day as this ! I never 
expected to see such a sight as th^s. I never expected to 
see the legions of an army going out to battle, voting the 
word of God into their knapsacks." The men declared, by 
this act, that they needed the Lord of hosts as their ally, 
and that, in performing their duty, they could look to him 
for his blessinjz on them. 



IX. THE PENNSYLVANIA EOUNDHEADS. 

The interesting sketch which follows is from Rev. Solo- 
mon Peck, D. D., so well known for his philanthropic labors 
in belftilf of the freedmen at Beaufort, S. C. : — 

It was said by Cromwell of his regiment of " Ironsides," 
who "were never beaten," "I raised such men as had the 
fear of God before them ; as naade some conscience of 
what they did." It is from them the " Roundheads of 
Western Pennsylvania, descendants of Scotch Covenanters 
and English Puritans, derive their name — a name first given 
in derision by the " Cavaliers," but afterward well under- 
stood to be a synonyme for Invincibles. 

Soon after the battle of Bull Run, and on the expiration 
of the " three months " service, application was made to the 
Secretary of War, by Colonel D. Leasure, for leave to 



28 MEMOPJ.^ OF THE WAR. 

raise a regiment for the war. The Pennsylvania "Re- 
serves " by that time had been filled out. " Can you bring 
Roundheads, Bible-men?" asked the Secretary. "I can 
bring no other," was the reply. 

It was my lot to meet the Roundheads, officers and men, 
for the first time in the house of God, the Sabbath after I 
landed in Beaufort, December twenty-second. The chaplain 
of the regiment, Rev. Robert A. Brown, of Newcastle, Pa., 
lay ill of fever at that time, and the colonel had invited me 
to preach to them at the usual hour of morning worship. 
The appointment was made accordingly ; and at bell-ring- 
ing the colonel marched his men, nine hundred strong, into 
the Baptist meeting-house, under arms, and with measured 
tread ; but quiet and reverent, as became the place, the 
service, and the day. 

It was an impressive spectacle. The soldiery, intermin- 
gled with members of other corps, filled the entire area of 
the lower floor, and most of the spacious galleries, which 
projected on either side. At the end stood, close crowded 
together, groups of " colored people." There, listening to 
the word of God, or rising in prayer, or singing, after their 
ancient metrical version, some of the Psalms of David, the 
Roundheads joined in worshipping the God of their fathers, 
— their God and our God, — just as they had been wont to 
worship, in their several sanctuaries, Avith kindred and 
friends at home. What added to the interest of the occa- 
sion was the presence of two other ministers, who took 
jjart in conducting the services, one of them the chaplain 
of the Eighth Michigan Regiment, Rev. Mr. Mahon. The 
service, moreover, was only the second had by the Round- 
heads, in Sabbath public worship, since coming to the 
South. 



DEFENCE. 29 



X. THE PHAYERS AT HOiTE THE SOLDIEEs' DEFENCE. 

At . the close of the preceding service, says Dr. Peck, 
and after the benediction had been pronounced, an incident 
occurred, not less inspiriting at the moment than it was 
matter of earnest gratulation afterwards, as a token of 
Christian alertness and tact in days to come. 

The congregation was on the point of moving out, when 
one word " Steady ! " clear and sharp, arrested every foot. 
Silence the most profound ensued ; while Colonel Leasure 
advanced to the foot of the pulpit stairs, and spoke to his 
Roundheads, whose very breath seemed to hang upon his 
words, in nearly the following terms : — 

" By the waters of the Yough, the Monongahela, the 
Slippery-rock, the Conoquanessing, the Neshannock, the 
Shenango, the Mahoning, the Hantaba, and the Sunny 
Beavers, those dearer to us than the lives we have come 
here to lay down, if need be, to preserve for their inheri- 
tance a country worthy of them, are met to-day in their 
holy places, their sanctuaries, to worship the God of our 
country and our salvation. I need not ask any one here 
whose names are graven on their hearts, while their united 
j^rayers ascend to heaven for their absent soldiers. In the 
midst of peace and rest, they pray for the dear absent, 
who, for aught they know, may be enduring the hardness 
of toil or battle at this hour. Does any soldier here feel 
that he is less a man, less patriotic, or less brave to endure 
or dare whatever duty may command, because he feels that 
a column of prayer, reaching to heaven, constantly follows 
to support our advance ? 

"In the times that are past, we have occupied our appro- 
priate places at their side in the sanctuary. To-day, far 
separated, our prayers and devotions blend harmoniously 
3* 



30 MEMORIALS OF TUE WAR. 

before the face of our common Fjithcr. In the midst of a 
hostile people, on an enemy's coast, with our foemen men- 
acing us, in their very presence, we, too, have a sacred, 
peaceful day of Sabbath rest and worship. Contrary to 
anything we could have hoped for, we have sat in a house 
dedicated to the worship of God, and have had his word 
expounded to us by a chosen minister, while two other 
ministers of the gospel sit on either side, and assist in the 
solemn services. To-day is, to us, a day of peace and rest, 
literally, a Sabbatli. We know not wiien we may have 
another. Another Sabbath may find us on the marcli ; or 
we know not where, nor in what circumstances of toil or 
danger. It is good to serve God while we have the oppor- 
tunity, in his appointed way, according to his chosen ordi- 
nances. 

" We have here present a minister of the gospel, the Rev. 
Mr, Evans, of Stamford, Connecticut, — ' the larjd of steady 
habits,' — who visits us from his distant home, and returns 
to-morrow. He can meet us here this afternoon, if you so 
desire ; and we may again join in the w^orship of God and 
hearing of the Word, at the same hour when our dear 
ones at home shall be engaged in like service. It will not 
lessen our devotions to know whose prayers for us meet 
ours for them in the ear of our heavenly Father. 

" So many as are in favor of afternoon service at three 
o'clock will raise their right hands." 

On the instant, as if by word of military command, every 
right hand was above the shoulder. The colonel proceeded 
with rapid but clear utterance : — 

"There will be service in tliis house at three o'clock this 
afternoon. At half-past two, companies will form on their 
company parades; the captains will carefully inspect the 
arms, accoutrements and ammunition, and see that all are 
in perfect order, and in a state of readiness for instant use ; 



LAST WORDS OF A DYING HERO. 31 

for we must remember that we are soldiers, as well as wor- 
shippers ; and that, while we pray to God to prosper our 
arms, we must also keep our powder dry. After inspection, 
the regiment will form under arms, in line of battle, on the 
regimental parade, and march to this place, to join m the 
further religious observance of the day. 

" Silently now, without haste, without delay, file from the 
left of companies to the street, form into columns, the 
right resting northward, and take, at the word, the line of 
march to your quarters." 



XI. LAST WORDS OF A DYING HERO. 

The folloAving letter of Colonel Brodhead, killed in one 
of Pope's battles, in front of Washington, in the summer 
of 18G2, written to his wife in his dying moments, has 
been published at the request of friends who believe that 
it belongs to the nation as well as to his fimily. It recalls 
to us one of the darkest hours through which we have 
passed amid the alternations of the war. Its touching 
pathos and high-toned patriotism will awaken fresh regrets 
for the death of this noble soldier and true man. He was 
a colonel, we believe, of one of the Pennsylvania regi- 
ments.^ 

My Deares^Wife : — I wi'ite to you, mortally wound- 
ed, from the battle-field. We are again defeated, and ere 
this reaches you, your children will be fatherless. Had all 
those in command done their duty as I did mine, and led 
their forces bravely, loyally, the dear old flag had waved in 
triumph. 

1 Colonel Brodhead was the son of Rev. John Brodhead, a Methodist clergy- 
man, whom many will still remember for his unwearied and useful labors in dif- 
ferent parts of Xew England. He died in New Hampshire in 1838, after a min- 
istry of forty-four year.s. 



32 MEMOFvIAL^pF THE WAK. 

I wrote to you yesterday morning. To-day is Sunday, 
and to-day I sink to the green couch of our final rest. I 
have fought well, ray darling, and I was shot in the 
endeavor to rally our broken battalions. I could have 
escaped, but would not until all hope was gone, and I was 
shot, — about the only one of our forces left on the 
field. Our cause is just, and our generals, not those of the 
enemy, have defeated us. In God's good time he will give 
us victory. 

And now, good-by, wife and children. Bring them up, 
I know you will, in the fear of God and love for the Sav- 
iour. But for you and the dear ones dependent, I should 
die happy. I know the blowwDl fall Avith crushing weight 
on you. Trust in Him who gave manna in the wilderness- 

Dr. Nash is with me. It is now after midnight, and I 
have spent most of the night in sending messages to you. 

Two bullets have gone through my chest, and directly 
through the lungs. I suffer but little now, but at first the 
pain w\as acute. I have won the soldier's name, and am 
ready to meet now, as I must, the soldier's fate. I hope 
that from heaven I may see the glorious old flag wave 
again over the undivided Union I have loved so well. 

Farewell, wife and babes, and friends. We shall meet 

again. -xr ^ 

o Your lovmg rr„^, __^„ 



Xn. DYING FOE HIS COirN"TIlY A PRIVILEGE. 

In the sanguinary battle of Antietam an officer of a 
IMassachusctts regiment was mortally wounded. He had 
passed unhurt through the thickest of the fight. At one 
time, wdien his regiment had captured a flag from the ene- 
my, he seized it, and, waving it proudly in the air, galloped 



DYING FOR HIS COUNTRY A PRIVILEGE. 06 

fearlessly up and down the lines, his men cheering most 
lustily, and the bullets falling about him like hail. Later 
in the day, and when in a comparatively sheltered position, 
a random shot struck him, from the effects of which he 
died two days afterward. 

As he lay near to death, and conscious of 1ms approach- 
ing end, the musicians of the regiment happened to pass 
by. He called to them with a cheerful voice, and asked 
them to play the " Star-Spangled Banner." They played 
the grand old tune, and as he listened, the countenance of 
the dying soldier beamed with joy. He heard no more 
music until he heard that of heaven, where "there shall be 
no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall 
there be any more pain." He inquired the result of the 
battle, and, when told it Avas a victory, triumphantly ex- 
claimed, " Oh ! it is glorious to die for one's country at such 
a time as this ! " Then, speaking in the most affecting 
manner to his chaplain, who was with him to the last mo- 
ment, he said, " Tell my mother I love her. Tell her I 
feel I have a God and Father in heaven. Tell her I trust 
fully in my Lord Jesus Christ." These were the last words 
he uttered. Thua. he died, a noble example of a soldier, a 
patriot, and a Christian. 

When such sacrifices are laid upon the altar of our 
country, we have surely new incentives to uphold the 
cause for which they are made, and, with God's help, not 
to allow the treason which has slain so many victims, to 
accomplish its purpose. And, through this bloody baptism, 
shall not our nation be purified at length, and fitted to act 
a nobler part in the world's history ? 



34 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 



Xni. A CHAPEL UNDER-GROUND. 

The Fourteenth Massachusetts Regiment had for a time 
the very honorable but laborious duty of guarding the 
Long Bridge, at Washington, and the approaches to it 
from the Virginia side. A gentleman, who visited the 
array in relation to their spiritual wants, asked a member 
of this regiment if they had any praying men among them. 

" Oh, yes, a great marty ! " was the answer. 

"And do you ever meet for prayer ? " he inquired. 

" Every day," said the soldier. 

" Where do you meet ? " 

"Just come here," said he, leading the way as he spoke- 
They stood in a new fort which the regiment had been 
building. 

" I can see no place for prayer," said the stranger. 

" Just down there," said the soldier, lifting up a rude 
tra]3-door at their feet. 

" What is down there ? " asked the other, who could see 
nothinc: but a dark hole before them. 

"That is the bomb-proof, and down there is the place 
where we hold the daily prayer-meeting. Down there," 
continued the soldier, " the men go every day to lift up 
their hearts to God in prayer." It was not yet furnished 
with the implements of death, and these praying men, sixty 
in number, were accustomed to go down twelve feet under- 
ground, in the dark, to hold communion with God. 

The same person said to a soldier whom he met in the 
camp, — 

" Are you prepared to fight in this cause ? " 

" I am, sir," said he. 

"What makes you say you are prepared to fight? 
What do you mean by it ? " 



THE C0:\1M0D0EE IN THE PULPIT. 35 

"I mean this, sir," answered the soldier. "I have made 
my peace with God, through faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. 
I have the friendship of Christ, and so I am prepared for 
anything, — life or death." 

"Do you mean that you can have the friendship of 
Christ, and fight ? " 

" Exactly so," said the brave man. "-I mean just that. 
I could not fight without a consciousness of my interest in 
the love of Christ." 



XIV. THE COMMODORE IN THE PULPIT. 

It has been mentioned as characteristic of Commodore 
Foote, that he prayed as if everything depended on God, 
and fought as if everything depended on man. On a cer- 
tain occasion, says the correspondent of a St. Louis paper,^ 
the commodore was present at a meeting on the Sabbath, 
shortly after one of his signal victories, when the minister 
of the church failed to appear, and the audience was kept 
waiting for the opening of the service. It seemed as if 
the opportunity for instruction and worship would be lost. 
The elder of the churph was unwilUng to officiate. Under 
these circumstances. Commodore Foote, on the impulse 
of the moment, went up to the pulpit, read a chapter in 
the Bible, prayed, and delivered a short discourse from the 
text, " Let not your heart be troubled. Ye believe in God, 
believe also in me." (John xiv. 1.) 

It was unexpected to the people ; nor was their wonder 
less when they saw his self-possession, his readiness, and 
the pertinence of his remarks. He seemed to be as much 
at home in the pulpit as he was on the deck of the Cincin- 
nati during the bombardment of Fort Henry. The audi- 

1 I have combined two i-eports of this occurrence. 



36 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

tors were much affected at hearing the voice from which so 
lately rang out the word of command, 

" In worst extreme, find on the perilous edge 
Of battle, when it raged," 

lifted up in humble acknowledgment to Heaven for the 
recent victory, and in earnest supplication for protection 
and success in days to come. Some of his own soldiers 
were among the hearers. They were expecting to be called 
to go into battle again at hny moment. They could have 
heard nothing from any one better fitted to tranquillize 
their minds, and nerve them for the conflict. 

On coming down from the pulpit, the minister, who had 
arrived just after the prayer, approached and tendered his 
thanks ; but the commodore rebuked him for his tardiness, 
and also for his neglect to take the pulpit immediately on 
his arrival. 



XV. THEY ASK GOD S BLESSING. 

A lieutenant of the New York Seventh tells a story to 
which no one can listen without emotion and a glow of 
pride in our New England soldiers. He says: "While 
encamped in Maryland, I wandered off one day, and came 
to a farmhouse, where I saw a party of soldiers, who I sup- 
posed were Massachusetts boys, l>ut who proved to be 
(though it is all the same) Rhode Islanders, who were 
talking with a woman who was greatly frightened. They 
tried in vain to quiet her apprehensions. They asked for 
food, and she cried, ' Oh, take all I have, take everything, 
but spare my sick husband.' ' Oh,' said one of the men, 
* we are not going to hurt you ; we are nearly famished 
and want something to eat.' 

" But the woman persisted in being frightened in spite 



THE INDIANA HERO BOY. 37 

of all efforts to reassure her, and hurried whatever food she 
had on the table. But when she saw this comiDany stand 
about the table with bowed heads, and a tall, gaunt man 
raise his hand and invoke God's blessing on the bounties 
spread before them, the poor woman broke down with a 
fit of sobbing and crying. She had no longer any fears, 
but bade them wait, and in a few moments had coffee and 
other needed refreshments ready for them. She then 
emptied their canteens of the muddy water they con- 
tained, and filied them with coffee. Her astonishment 
increased when they insisted upon paying her. Their 
asking a blessing," said the officer, " took me by surprise ; 
and when I saw tliat, I said, 'Our country is safe, when 
such men go forth in the fear of God to fight for her.' " 



XVI. THE INDIANA HEKO BOY. 

The narrative which follows appeared in the Cincinnati 
"Gazette." Some verbal changes only have been made in 
the language. 

On the cars running from Evansville to Indianapolis, 
(says the writer,) I fell into conversation with a soldier, 
who, though young in years, carried, as I found, the heart 
of a man . and a hero in his bosom. He was returning 
home on a discharge furlough. Having found others desti- 
tute, I inquired into his condition. He had started without 
breakfast, had neither food nor money to go to Elkhart, on 
the Southern Michigan road, a distance of over three hun- 
dred miles, and with the probability before him of being 
over two days on the way. His voice was gone, and he 
was obliged to talk in a whisper. On seeing what the 
prospect before him was, he said to me, with childish sim- 
plicity, " I shall be nearly starved when I reach home, — 



38 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

shall I not ? " I inquired for his haversack, in order to sup- 
ply him with something to eat, when we stopped. He re- 
plied that "it had been stolen from him." Yet he was 
indifferent about the haversack; it was the Bible contained 
in it that he felt to be the great loss to him. His parents 
were religious, as I learned, and had brought him up to 
habits of rectitude, and in the fear of God. 

He had an impression that he should not live long ; and 
I remarked to him, "Death is no calamity to a good boy.' 
His countenance briglitened as I said that to him, and he 
answered with much earnestness, "]^o, sir; and I am not 
afraid to die. I made up my mind that it was my duty to 
go and fight for my country, and my parents consented. 
Through exposure, I lost my health early in the winter; 
and on the Sunday morning of the battle of Shiloh, I was 
in my tent sick, and the physician ordered me to remain 
there. I had been unfit for duty for two months. The 
physician was very kind to me. The news kept coming 
back to us near the river that our army was giving way 
everywhere, and I thought it my duty to take my gun and 
go. to their assistance. I went to the front, and during four 
hours loaded and fired as fast as I could. But the exer- 
tion was too much for me ; my lungs took to bleeding, and 
I came near dying before the bleeding could be stopped. 
But I was glad I did what I could. I have never spoken 
since above a whisper, and I fear I never shall. But it is 
all right ; our country must be saved at any sacrifice." At 
the first eating-station, the boy was seated at the table, 
and his dinner paid for by a stranger ; and his thanks were 
so cordial and heartfelt, that tears filled the stranger's eyes 
as he turned away, receiving, as he did it, the sick boy's 
" God bless you, stranger ! " 

Time for supper would bring him to Indianapolis. 
What would he do there? Who would befriend him 



THE INDIANA HEEO BOY. 39 

there ? He was told to go to Gov. Morton, and inform 
him he was on his way home from Shiloh, with ruined 
health, and had neither money nor food. He answered 
that he would do it if he had strength to walk. He was 
then told to send him a line ; any one would carry it for 
him. He said he would do so, and added, " It would not 
be improper. Surely the governor would not let me starve. 
It seems to me almost anybody would help a sick soldier." 
When he arrived at Elkhart, he would still be several 
miles from home. That occurred to him, and perplexed his 
thoughts for a moment; and, then, smiling, he said, "Our 
family physician lives there, and he will take me in his 
carriage, and carry me home, and, oh ! does not a welcome 
await me when my mother sees me coming? I shall take 
her by surprise. She is not prepared for that." Here the 
train started with the sick boy, who seemed revived by 
his food, and the words of encouragement spoken to him, 
and the thoughts of home. 



CHAPTER II. 

SOLDIERS OF THE CROSS IN THE AR]\IT. 



I. THE AGED VOLUNTEER. 

John Henry, of Indiana, is the name of one of the mar- 
tyr heroes of the war. Although fifty-six years of age, he 
enlisted as a volunteer in the Seventy-eighth Indiana Reg- 
iment. He was not influenced by ambition, for he went as 
a private ; nor by the love of money, for he was not desti- 
tute of means, and the soldier's stipend of thirteen dollars 
a month was little to him ; nor yet by patriotism alone, 
although he loved his country well enough to die for it. 
He was a teacher in the Sabbath school, and went from 
love to the members of his class, and from a sense of duty to 
his Lord and Master, who had committed them to his care. 
He said " The Great Shepherd will demand them at my 
hands. I wish to give a good account of my trust. I 
must care for the souls for whom He cared, and be able, if 
I can, to present them among the saved, in the day when 
the throne shall be set, and the books be opened." So he 
enlisted. 

He fell in a skirmish on Monday morning, at Uniontown, 
Kentucky, mortally wounded. A ball passed through his 
face, inflicting a terrible wound. It entered just below the 
left cheek-bone, cut his tongue almost off, shattered the 
right cheek-bone, and so passed out. He was still able 
after tliis, to make himself understood, and was full of joy 
in spite of the pains of death. On Sunday, the day before 

40 



JOIIX LOEENZE. 41 

his end, he had spent the forenoon in a neighboring 
orchard, in meditation and prayer. Toward noon he had 
this tliought impressed deeply on him, "Work to-day, for 
the time is short." And he did work. He passed from 
tent to tent, praying, praising, and exhoi'ting, not only dur- 
ing the remainder of the day, but late into the night. 

The next morning, lie was among the first to fall, and 
soon his mutilated tongue was silent in death. Among his 
last words were these : " Oh, I am happy, for when the 
Master c^me, he found me at my appointed work ! " He 
entered into the full conception of those words of Christ, 
which we hear with a new emphasis from such a grave. 
" Blessed are those servants whom the Lord, when he com- 
eth, shall find watching : verily I say unto you, that he 
shall gird himself, and make them to sit down to meat, 
and will come forth and serve them. And if he shall 
come in the second watch, or come in the third watch, and 
find them so, blessed are those servants." 



II. JOHN LOEENZE. 

The following is a remarkable example of fortitude and 
of the power of Christian faith. It is an illustration of 
those virtues that would adorn the martyrology of the 
brightest ages of the church. The account is from the 
chaplain of the Eighth Regiment of Connecticut Volun- 
teers. It was written from 

" EOANOKE Island, February 22, 18G2. 
" We are encamped on the battle-field, and the incident 
I relate is fresh in my mind. John Lorenze, a resident of 
Mullica Hill, Gloster County, New Jersey, enlisted as a 
private in the Ninth Regiment of the New Jersey Volun- 
teers, and with his regiment was engaged in the fight at 
4* 



42 MEMORIALS OF THE AVAR. 

Roanoke Island, February 8, 1862. During the engage- 
ment, which lasted for a number of hours, Mr. Lorenzo 
had both his legs shot away just below the knees, and his 
comrades bore him from the field. But he did not 
lose his consciousness nor self-control. In speaking of his 
sensations as he was shot, he said that a something came 
and took away his legs, dropping him suddenly to the 
ground. While he was being borne on the litter to tlie 
hospital, as if indifferent to his own sufferings, he sought 
to cheer his comrades, and all whom he met, by his encour- 
aging words and ha])p5'' manner. In answer to questions 
regarding himself and his wounds, he returned cheerful 
answers. During the amputation of the fragments of his 
limbs necessary to be removed, he retained his spirits, and 
encouraged the surgeons by his pleasant frame of mind. 
His countenance was an index of the composure, almost 
transport, of his feelings : so much so that all who saw him 
remarked at once its beaming expression. 

" I first observed him as he lay on the floor of the hospital 
on the day that he suffered the terrible injury. I went to 
him and asked him where he was wounded. He told me 
that both his legs were shot away just below the knees. I 
then conversed with him a few moments about his wounds, 
the suffering he endured, and spoke to him of the Saviour, 
— of his love and sustaining grace. The tears filled his 
eyes. ' Oh,' said he, 'Jesus is all my trust. Blessed be his 
holy name ! I do not know what would sustain me, if it 
were not for the consciousness of his presence.' I asked 
him if he was a professor of religion. He replied that he 
had tried to serve God for a number of years. ' I have 
tried to serve him in the camp, and now he is all my trust.' 
The tears rolled down his cheeks while he talked. I left 
him, promising to see him again, and pray with him, and 
also to write to his wife, informing her of his situation. In 



JOHN LORENZE. 43 

the course of our conversation he spoke of his family, con- 
sisting of a wife and two young children, and said he did 
not know whether he should live or die ; but if it was 
God's will that he should live, he thought he might be of 
some little service to those dependent on him ; but imme- 
diately added, ' God's will be done.' All this time the 
same heavenly smile rested on his face. I called to see 
him again the next day, which was Sabbath, but found 
him asleep, and did not awake him. I called again on 
Monday, and conversed with him, finding him still in pos- 
session of the same peace and cheerfulness. I then read to 
him the fifth chapter of Second Corinthians, and prayed 
with him. Before the prayer closed, the room was filled 
with the surgeons and attendants, all of whom were in 
tears ; and the hearty amen which came from the lips of 
the wounded man was audible to all in the room. 

"While I was writing the letter to his wife, he said, 
' Tell her I am comfortable and cheerful ; but as she is very 
nervous, do not tell her how severely I am wounded.' And 
then he spoke of the surgeons and those who attended 
him, expressing gratitude for their kindness. 'Oh,' he said, 
* they are all so kind to me.' I think I never before wit- 
nessed such an instance of Christian fortitude and heroic 
faith ; his loss was so great, and yet under it all he was 
so happy and confident. 

"A very profane man called to see him, and in speaking 
of him afterward in my presence, remarked, ' It would do 
any one's heart good to look at that man's face. I never 
saw such a face since I was born. If I had a regiment of 
such men, I could conquer the whole South ; ' and turning 
to me, he asked, ' What sustains that man ? ' It was a fit- 
ting opportunity, and I told him Mr. Lorenze's testimony 
respecting his faith in Christ, and its power to lift him thus 
above pain and the fear of death. The scorner dropped 
his head and was silent." 



44 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 



III. GENERAL MITCHELL AS A TREACHER. 

This lamented officer was an eloquent man, as well as 
learned and brave, and often addressed his men on religious 
subjects. He did not esteem it beneath his dignity, or sub- 
versive of military discipline, to endeavor to bring his com- 
mand under the lead of the great Captain of our salvation. 
On one occasion, at the conclusion of a sermon preached 
to the Ninth Ohio Brigade, near Shelbyville, Tennessee, 
the general took his stand on a huge rock as a pulpit, and 
occupied half an hour in delivering what is described as 
one of the best religious discourses ever heard. He com- 
menced by saying that he did not appear there as the 
general commanding, but in a higher capacity; that he 
would address them as a man his fellow-men, as one striv- 
ing with them for the same eternal happiness for which 
all are candidates in this jorobationary life. He insisted 
that the highest duty of a soldier was to be a Christian ; 
religion heightened every enjoyment, and prepared him to 
discharge better all his obligations. A chaplain who was 
present says, "It was a sublime scene; he left an impres- 
sion on the minds of his auditors never to be forgotten." 
The effect of this sermon was heightened by the fact that 
the services were held on the mountain-top, amid the rug- 
ged grandeur of East Tennessee. 



IV. THE MODEL PRAYER-MEETING. 

It is an instructive fict certainly, as the author of the sub- 
joined communication in the "Boston Ilecorder," the Rev. 
William Barrows, of Reading, Mass., suggests, that the 
camp, and not the vestry, should furnish our "best model of 



THE MODEL PEATEE-MEETING. 



45 



a prayer-meeting." The scene is near Stoneman's Station, 
in the army of the Potomac, in the camp of the Twenty- 
second Massachusetts Regiment, and the time the evening 
of April 3d, 1863. 

A Sibley tent, warmed by an army cooking-stove, lighted 
by three candles, and furnished with a long mess-table, was 
tlie " upper-room." One real chair, and several real boxes, 
chests, etc., furnished seats for twenty or more soldiers. 
A strange minister, fresh from home, had the meeting in 
charge. "^ With no ado about agreeing on the tune and 
"pitching" it, some one began the service, when a hymn 
was called for, by striking up the words,— • 

"Nearer, my God, to thee." 
Then the minister prayed; and before he could find his pas- 
sage for reading, they, started off with 

" My clays are gliding swiftly by," 

singing two stanzas. Then was read the account of the 
blind beggar Bartimeus, and how Jesus healed him, and 
how he followed the Master afterward. A few words were 
spoken, showing how poor our estate is by nature, sitting 
by the way-side of life, and how blind we are to our own 
good and God's glory, till we call on Jesus. Then some- 
body began to sing, — 

" I love to steal awhile away," 
and almost all joined, singing but one verse. This was 
followed by a prayer, short and fervent. Then came an 
exhortation from a weather-worn soldier of the Cross and 
the government. 

" Jesus, lover of my soul," 

next filled the tent and died away on the hill-side and 
among the pines in which the regiment has so charming a 
location. 



46 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

Here one rose simply to testify, as he said, that he loved 
Jesus. He did not use five sentences, but it was all testi- 
mony. Then came a prayer for loved ones at home, the 
fiimily, the church, the Sabbath school and prayer-meeting ; 
and so still were all, that you would have supposed the 
praying man to be alone in the tent. The voice trembled 
somewhat, and if we wiped away a tear or two when he 
said amen, we were not ashamed to be seen doing it, for 
some others did so. Our thoughts went home also, — how 
could we help the tear? 

And then, as if some of them in the chances of battle 
might miss the earthly home, a verse was sung beginning, 

" Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood." 

Next followed a practical talk about following Christ in 
the army. The good ideas were briefly, bluntly put, and 
full of the love of the Lord Jesus. Then a stanza went 
swelling out among the pines again : — 

" Come we that love the Lord." 

An exhortation was now addressed to any who had not 
enlisted under the Captain of our Salvation, and it was 
pressed home by the sweet words and, then, familiar air, — 

" happy day that fixed my choice." 

"Now one kneels down on the clay floor, and prays in the 
first person singular. It was a short broken prayer, prob- 
ably by the brother who, they said, had lately learned to 
pray, and in that tent. We have all heard such prayers, 
and none ever affected us so much. An exhortation fol- 
lowed by a sailor on the difficulties of being a Christian in 
the army. He showed how they tried to do that at sea, 
and illustrated it by an incident. 

Then came the hymn, — 

" Thus far the Lord hath led me on." 



A STARLESS CROWN. 47 

The minister here reraarked that if we would follow 
Christ successfully. we must keep in the ranks, and own to 
everybody at proper times, that Christ is our Captain- 
Following him by side-marches and obscure paths exposes 
us to the lurking enemy. 

Now the hour was almost gone and so followed the 

doxology — 

" Praise God from whom all blessings flow," 

and the benediction. 

We thought it worth a trip to the Army of the Potomac 
to learn from the soldiers how to have a good prayer- 
meeting. No one was called on to pray or speak, and no 
hymn was given out. No one said he had nothing to say, 
and then talked long enough to jDrove it. No one excused 
his inability to "edify." No one waited to be called on; 
no time was lost by delay, and the entire meeting was less 
than an hour. 

We shall always remember that prayer-meeting in the 
Massachusetts Twenty-second. 



V. A STARLESS CROW^-. 

A private letter from Rev. Dr. Spaulding of Newbury port, 
Mass., written at Baton Rouge, mentions a rare instance 
of the union of patriotic zeal and tender religious sensi- 
bility : — 

Yesterday Dr. Dolson told me that a man in the Gen- 
eral Hospital greatly desired to see a chaplain, and accord- 
ingly I went to see him. When the nurse had put aside 
the mosquito netting, the patient began to converse with 
me very freely, speaking of his home in Hopkinton, N. II., 
where he had a wife and two children. He had once been 
a member of a Freewill Baptist Church in that vicinity. 



48 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

He asked me if I thonglit it possible that his great desire 
would be gratified before he died. I told hira I could 
hardly judge, without knowing what it was. " Oh," said 
he, " I want to be the instrument of the conversion of one 
soul. I cannot die and wear a starless crown, — sl starless 
crown !^^ There was a depth of earnestness in his expres- 
sion and manner very ailecting, and the whole fear of the 
man in dying was, not that he was an unforgiven sinner, 
not that he should foil of heaven, not that his friends 
would not come to Jesus, but that he should wear a starless 
crown. 

VI. BAPTISM IN THE MOUNTAINS. 

On Tuesday of last week, says the editor of the 
"Christian Advocate," we had a call from Rev. Joseph 
Cotton, of the southeastern Indiana Conference, now chap- 
lain of the Thirteenth Indiana Regiment. lie was on his 
way from Indiana to his post at Huttonsville, Western 
Virginia. In an hour's conversation he detailed to us a 
chapter of stirring camp-life incidents. After one of the 
severest battles recently had there, and while the men of 
his regiment were exulting over their victory, a young m;m, 
a private who had participated in the fight, came to him, 
and said that lie wished to talk with him on a subject the 
most important to him in the world — that relating to his 
soul and its salvation. "The tears," said the chaplain, 
"were in his eyes, and his lips were trembling with emotion. 
I knew he was in earnest. We immediately retired to a se- 
cluded valley in the w^oods, and I prayed with him and for 
him, and he prayed for himself, with great propriety and 
fervor. Shortly afterward, during another interview which 
we had together, light broke upon his darkness. The peni- 
tent felt that the burden of guilt unforgiven w\as gone, that 



THE LOG CHURCH. 49 

he had found tlie peace which comes from faith in the 
Redeemer; and, wishing to declare his attachment to Christ* 
he asked to be baptized by immersion. I told his cap- 
tain," said the brotlier; "and he, though a wicked fellow, 
assented to my request of having us pass the lines to a 
convenient place in a river close at hand, where the ordi- 
nance could be administered." 

"And may not I and my men go along?" inquired the 
captain. 

" Certainly," said Chaplain Cotton, and at a short notice 
they went. Tlie scene was a most solemn one, and, as the 
baptism was completed, there was not a dry eye amongst 
all the men of the company. " That man has courage to 
go anywhere or do anything that is right," said a bystander; 
"and a regiment composed of men like him would be, like 
Havelock's Highlanders, invincible to all opposition." 



Vn. THE LOG CHUECH. 

The account which follows is from the Rev. Mr. Alvord, 
whose self-denying labors for the soldier have so endeared 
his name to the hearts of all good people. The incident 
occurred in Virginia, during the campaign nnder General 
Burnside. It was a communication sent to one of the 
publications of the American Tract Society. 

There are no chapel tents now, and everything has to 
be done usually in the open air, where but two or three 
can be gathered together. The chaplains and other Chris- 
tian men are not inclined to spend much time in erecting 
any permanent buildings, as the army is constantly liable to 
move. But certain boys of the 'Ne\v York Twenty-fourth 
(who have no chaplain), determined that they would have 
a better place for their meetings. They had been held 

6 



50 MEMOllIALS OF THE WAR. 

hitherto, as one of them said, by the side of a stump. 
Two of them especially, although only privates, seemed 
almost inspired on the subject. They obtained permission 
of the colonel to build a cabin of logs. These had to be 
drawn a mile, trimmed, framed, and piled up. The dimen- 
sions were to be sixteen by thirty-two feet, sufficiently 
large to hold a hundred and sixty persons. 

The first logs were heavy, and hardly any one helped 
them. Their plan at first was not very definite. They 
would lay down a log, and then look and plan by the eye. 
Another log was then wearily drawn and placed on the 
other. To most of their comrades, the affiair gave occa- 
sion only for jests and merriment. "Are you to have it 
finished before the world ends?" they asked. "Are you 
fixing up to leave?" "How does your saloon get on?" 
Even the more serious felt pity for them, rather than sym- 
pathy. There was already an order out to move. " What 
is the use?" " Who wants meetings now?" But these 
two Christian soldiers (S. and L.) toiled on like aSToah amidst 
the scofis of the multitude. The edifice slowly rose; volun- 
teers lent a hand. The Christian men of the regiment, 
forty or fifty in all, became interested ; some of them at 
length aided in the work. The structure reached at last 
a proper height; and a roof of brush first, and then of 
patched ponchos having been put on, the meeting began, 
— or rather they began when it was only an open pen. 
In, a few days, Burnside's advance took place, and the 
regiment left for the field. 

In their absence, plunderers stripped the cabin, and car- 
ried ofi" a portion of its material ; but on the return of our 
troops, the same busy hands and hearts of fiiith were again 
at work. A sutler gave them the old canvas cover of his 
large tent, which he was about to cut up to serve as a shelter 
for his horses, and lo, it precisely fitted the roof of the 



THE LOG CHURCH. 51 

meeting-honse, — not an inch to spare ! This was drawn 
over the neat rafters and lashed at the edges, making a 
transparency by day, and reflecting the Ught most pleasantly 
by night. The boys, when they saw this, thought it almost 
a miracle ; and were hardly less pleased when the door, 
with its latch and strhig, was fitted so nicely in its place. 
But they had no lock as yet to preserve the interior 
of their house from depredntions, and when, having in- 
quired and sent everywhere for one in vain, they were out 
for their last load of poles for benches, they had to tell rae 
how, just upon their pathside in the forest, a lock was found 
with a key in it, all ready to be fitted to their door ! I 
thought myself it was a little strange, that far out here 
in Virginia, at such a time, an article of this description, by 
just these eyes, should have been discovered. But I con- 
cluded that the God who had helped these feeble workmen 
to build his house could help them finish it. 

Well, there it stands, a monument to his glory, and the 
credit of their perseverance. You should have seen their 
eyes shine, as, here in my tent for tracts, they were one 
day giving me its history, and you should have been with us 
last evening. The little pulpit from which I spoke is made 
of empty box boards. Two chandeliers hang suspended 
from the ridgepole of cross sticks, wreathed with ivy, and 
in the socketed ends are four adamant candles, each burning 
brilliantly. Festoons of ivy and ' dead men's fingers ' (a 
species of woodbine called by this name) are looped grace- 
fully along the sides of the room, and in the centre, stretch- 
ing from chandelier to chandelier; — the eflTect not slightly 
increased by the contrast of the deep green of the rich 
vegetation with the fine brown bark of the pine logs, and 
of the white canvas above, striped and interlaced with the 
rafters. Below, a dense pack of soldiers in the Avengers'^ 

1 So called in memory of Colonel Ellsworth, who was killed at Alexandria, 



52 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

uniform sat crouching upon the pole seats, beneath which 
was a carpet of evergreen sprays; — all silent, uncovered, 
respectful As the service opened, you could have heard a 
pin fall. There was nothing here to make a noise. Pew- 
doors, psahn-books, rustling silks, or groined arches, rever- 
berating the slightest sound of hand or footfall, there were 
none. Only the click of that wooden latch and a gliding 
figure, like a stealthy vidette, creeping in among the com- 
mon mass, indicated the late comer. Tlie song went up 
fi'om the deep voices of men, — do you know the effect? — 
and before our service closed, tears rolled down from the 
faces of hardy warriors. To be brief, every evening 
of the week, this house is now filled with men brought 
together, four times out of seven for religious objects. 
When they can have no preaching, the soldiers themselves 
meet for prayer. 

I stole in one evening lately, when they were at these 
devotions. Prayer after prayer successively was offered in 
earnest, humblest tones, before rising from their knees; those 
not worshippers were intent on the scene. Officers were 
present and took part in the service, and seldom have I 
seen such manifest tokens tliat God is about to appear in 
power. No opposition is shown. The whole regiment 
look upon the house now as a matter of pride ; they en- 
courage all the meetings. 

The house is attractive to visitors, and when not used 
for religious purposes is occupied for lyceum debates, musi- 
cal concerts, and the like. It is easy to imagine how much 
these two Christian laborers enjoy the success of their 
work. One of them said to me, " We have been paid for 
all our labor a thousand times over." 



THE SILENT PEAYER. 63 



Vin. THE BLIND SOLDIEKl 

Among the men at the New England Rooms, in New 
York, (says a visitor to that pLace,) is one from Michigan. 
He was shot in the head at Malvern Hill, and the optic 
nerve was carried away, so that he has become stone-blind. 
He is now well, in his general health, but will never see again. 
He is one of the happiest men in the land. He is a person 
of cheerful, but open and decided piety. "Happy as the 
day is long," has its literal and expressive meaning as ap- 
plied to him. It is delightfnl to listen to him as he speaks 
of what he did for the old flag while he could see, and still 
more to observe how he strives to be useful still since his in- 
jury, in such ways as he can. 'He feels his way from couch 
to couch, drops, as he moves along, fitting words of sympa- 
thy and counsel, cheers up the despondent, and makes the 
heart glad. Those connected with the rooms assure me, 
(says this visitor,) that the tone of his happy speech, and 
pious resignation, impress all who have an opportunity to 
see and hear him. 



IX. THE SILENT PEATER. 

An officer reports, that a little drummer-boy was on 
board one of the transport ships which conveyed his regi- 
ment to Fortress Monroe. At the close of the first day, 
just at evening, the little fellow, overcome by the fatigues 
of the day, laid himself down upon the deck, and fell 
asleep. The night was chilly and the dews were falling. 
The colonel came along and shook him by the shoulder, 
and told him he would take cold if he continued to lie 
there, and advised him to go below and go to his rest for 

6* 



54 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

the night. As he was getting up, his Bible fell out of his 
pocket upon tlje deck. He picked it up and replaced it. 
Some kind hand, perhaps a mother or a Sunday-school 
teacher had given him that Bible. 

He went below, and prepared himself for his bed. 
When ready, he kneeled down, and, though many loud- 
talking men were standing about, put his hands together 
in the attitude of prayer, and poured out his heart silently 
to God. He heeded not the noise around him. In a 
moment all was hushed. The company, as if overawed by 
the conduct of the boy, reverently stood* silent until he 
had finished his prayer. It was one of the scenes of earth 
on which angels pause to look down with interest. 



X. FOOTE S FAREWELL TO HIS SAILORS. 

TJiis gallant officer, who had long been suffering from 
the effect of a wound, was obliged at length to seek a tem- 
porary release from his command. The parting from his 
men and the introduction to them of his successor took 
place on board the Benton, the flag-ship of the Mississippi 
flotilla, in May, 1862. The remarks which he made on 
that occasion (we profess to give only the general tenor 
of them) present him to us as a man of the sternest loyalty, 
and yet able, by his courtesy and Christian mildness, to 
bind to himself, as " with hooks of steel," the hearts of 
those who shared the perils and honors of his naval 
achievements. He said, — 

"Officers and men : It has now become my painful duty 
to inform you that I am about to leave you, though I trust 
only for a short time. Commodore Davis, who is here 
before you, has been appointed my successor, and is the 
man whom I proposed to the government as the one above 



foote's farewell to his sailors. 55 

all others best fitted to relieve me of my charge. He has 
talent, and scientific as well as naval ability, and, as he has 
borne hitherto an unsullied name, will, I doubt not, main- 
tain it in future." 

Turning then to Mr. Davis, and pointing to the officers 
around hira, he said, "These gallant officers, — men of 
the East, West, ]N"orth, South, and of foreign climes, — 
who now stand before you, are men on whom you can 
depend in any emergency. I have tried them, one and all, 
and know what I say ; and although they may never 
receive the reward due to their gallant and manly bearing, 
we have, at least, the proud satisfaction of knowing that 
we have done our duty. The improvising of a squadron 
like this without means at all adequate to the work has 
been our greatest labor ; it has cost more efibrt than our 
signal victories when we have met the enemy face to face. 
Providence has seen fit to afflict me in this hour of our 
triumph, just as the great work begins to be crowned with 
success. But I trust I may regain my failing strength in 
body and mind, and be enabled to rejoin you. The painful 
duty is now over. I wish I was able to introduce you 
singly to each officer ; but (afiected to tears as he spoke) I 
am too weak." 

He attempted to perform that courtesy, but could not 
proceed. Captain Phelps relieved him by mentioning the 
officers by name to Commodore Davis. Pointing then to 
the seamen, the flag-officer continued : "These men, too, you 
can depend upon in any emergency. If they have any 
fault, they are but too anxious to go into a fight ; they will 
never surrender to the enemy. Unless you hold them 
back, they will be ahead of you in reaching the post 
of danger. They can run faster than I can, you see," 
casting his eyes to his wounded foot. " Officers and men, 
one and all, farewell." 



56 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

At tlie close of these remarks, the brave old commodore 
was assisted on board of the steam-packet De Soto, bound 
for Cincinnati, the officers and crew of the Benton gazing 
with tender sympathy toward him, as if lie had been to 
each one of them his best and nearest friend. Some min- 
utes were occupied in starting, and the commodore was 
placed in a chair on the nj)per deck of the De Soto. As 
he looked at the Benton, says an eye-witness, and saw the 
many familiar faces that fixed their kind eyes upon him so 
earnestly, his trembling hand frequently sought his quiver- 
ing lip, and it was evident that he was struggling hard to 
control his feelings. But nature prevailed, and the brave 
officer covered his wan face with a fan which he held, to 
protect himself against the heat, and wept like a child. 
As the steamer left the flag-ship, three loud, long, and ring- 
ing cheers were given by the crew. The commodore stood 
up on his crutches as the De Soto moved up the broad 
Mississippi, and with tremulous voice said, "God bless you 
all ! Heaven knows how hard it is for me to leave you ! 
Better and braver men than you never trod a deck. I 
would much rather stay with you and die with you than 
go away. But my duty to my country compels me to 
yield to stronger, though I hope not more willing, hands. 
God bless you, my brave men, — God bless you all ! " 

There was hardly one on the deck whose eyes were not 
filled with tears while the commodore spoke, and old tars 
that had braved the frozen horrors of the Northern seas 
and the plagues of the tropics, that had doubled the Horn 
again and again, and sailed under the equator, and touched 
at every prominent land-point on the globe, stood in the 
hot sun, with hotter tears upon their cheeks, melted into 
tenderness at the thought of parting from their brave old 
commander, whom they liad learned to love so well. 

At Hickman, Madison, Cairo, and other places, the citi- 



THE soldier's GREATEST FEAR. 57 

zens crowded down to the wharves to cheer the gallant 
commodore on his way.^ 



XI. 



A scene with which every hamlet and neighborhood in 
the land are now sadly familiar summoned us to the old 
church. A coffin covered with the stars and stripes, in 
front of the pulpit, contained all that remained on earth 
of one whom we had known and loved. He was a young 
man whose noble traits of character had drawn to him 
many hearts. Only two years before, he had stood in this 
very aisle, making a public profession of the religion of 
Jesus. 

A Christian can best afford to be a fearless soldier, for 
he can look danger and death in the face. William, the 
subject of this notice, did so. He had been in many bat- 
tles. He always stood his ground like a true hero. But 
there was one thing of which this youth, whom the last 
conqueror only had vanquished, was afraid. He was 
afraid he should disgrace his Christian profession by yield- 
ing to temptation in an unhappy moment. Tlie burden of 
his requests as he wi"Ote to his parents, was, "Pray for me ; 

1 It was not the will of Providence that this brave and good man should fulfil 
the hope expressed by him, of rejoining the companions in arms to whom he ad- 
dressed this farewell. He repaired to Washington, and for more than a year, 
by his advice and cooperation, rendered invaluable aid to the naval department, 
with the aflairs of which he was so thoroughly conversant. But he was needed 
for more active service, and at the earliest moment of apparent convalescence, 
was appointed commander of the fleet engaged in the attack on Fort 
Sumter and Charleston. The most important results were hoped for from his 
unquestioned skill and bravery. He had reached New York on his way to the 
South, when suddenly he was taken ill there, and died on the 2Gth of June, 1803. 

Hardly any one has appeared on the stage of action during the war more diS' 
tinguished for the highest qualities of the patriot, hero, and Christian, than Ad* 
mii-al Foote. 



58 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

my temptations are many. Pray for me that I may over- 
come." 

But William's clays were numbered. He was attacked 
by a fatal disease, and borne as far as Rhode Island, where 
his father, who belonged to Massachusetts, was summoned 
to come to him. He hastened to the expected place of 
interview. Here, as the father looked round on a company 
of sick and wounded soldiers, he inquired, with searching 
gaze, " Where is William ? " 

"That is my name," answered a feeble voice. 

Wlio shall attempt to describe that last fond meeting 
between father and son ? At length the father found voice 
to say, " I see, m}^ son, how it is as to the body ; but how 
as to the temptations about which you wrote to us ? Have 
you been able to overcome ? " 

" Oh, yes, father, I have not put the intoxicating cup to my 
lips once ; I have fallen into no open sin since I left home." 

As he sleeps beneath the flag he loved and defended, we 
seem to hear a voice from heaven, saying, " Blessed are the 
dead who die in the Lord ; for they rest from their labors, 
and their works do follow them." "To him that over- 
cometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I 
also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his 
throne." 

XII. SORROW IN THE HOMESTEAD. 

I was called last week, (writes one of the army chaplains, 
Rev. Mr. Bass,) to bury a young man aged about twenty-one 
years, George Van Schaick, son of Rev. Mr. Van Schaick, 
of Unadilla, IST. Y. He was a noble youth. In the tent, in 
the camp, in his duties, or recreations, he demeaned himself 
as a Christian. He was a friend to his chaplain, and many 
were the pleasant hours we have spent together in friendly 



SORROW IN THE HOMESTEAD. 5& 

conversation and social worship. He helped to sustain and 
give character to the nightly meetings at the chaplain's 
tent. Though he shrank from no duty, he was modest and 
unassuming in his manners. I loved him, delighted to see 
his open, cheerful countenance, and to hear his voice in 
prayer and praise in our solemn assemblies. He was sick 
but one short week. I sat at his bedside, day after day, to 
hear his words of confiding trust in tlie wisdom and mercy of 
his God. Death to him had no sting ; the grave had lost 
its power. It is true his thoughts turned often to the old 
homestead, to his aged parents, his sisters, and brothers, 
and friends ; but Jesus, the love of the Saviour, and the 
consolations of his rich grace, were chief in his thoughts 
and on his tongue. The day before his death, he expressed 
a wish that I should write to his father for him. "Tell 
him," said he, "I have not forgotten his counsels and 
prayers, and my own dedication to God. Tell him I feel 
prepared for any event; — if I live, I will glorify God on 
earth, and if I die, I will praise him in heaven." So the 
pastor's son breathed his last amid sorrowing friends, on 
Friday, at four o'clock, a. m., with faith and joy steadfast 
to the end. 

But the domain of "tearful" war extends beyond the 
camp and the battle-field. Heaven gained in this instance 
a happy spirit, but there was sorrow in the homestead. 
The pain and anguish of these days are felt by survivors, 
as well as by those who suffer in hospitals, or yield up 
their lives amid the shock of arms. Thousands of be- 
reaved households, at this moment, know the meaning of 
the poet's words : — 

" Not on the tented field, 
terror-fi'onted War ! 
Not on the battle-field, 
All thy bleeding victims are. 



60 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

" But in the lowly homes 

Whei-e soiTOw broods like death, 
And ftist the mother's sobs 
Rise with each quick-druAvu breath,' 

" As sick with pining pain 

She moves from room to room, 
As each familiar sight 
Pierces her soul like doom : — 

" A coat upon the wall, — 

Some book he loved to read, — 
O cruel, cruel War ! 

Here, too, thy victims bleed. 

" To see that fair young form 

Crushed by the wai'-horse tread, 
The dear and bleeding form 

Stretched by the piled-up dead — 

" That dimmed eye, fainting close — 
And she may not be nigh ! 
'Tis mothers die — God! 
'Tis but we mothex's die." 



XIII. LAST INTERVIEW OF THE HEROES. 

While at Gettysburg, (says a visitor to that place,) I 
learned the following incident from the lips of Professor 
Stoever. At the close of the bloody buttles of the second 
and third of Jidy, while thousands of the soldiers were 
lying wounded side by side, and before even the ofiicers 
could seek oat and speak to their bleeding and dying 
friends, the command came to jjursue the flying Confeder- 
ates. Major General Howard, at the head of the Eleventh 
Army Corps (who has been called the Ilavelock of the 
American army), hastened to the bedside of Captain 
Griffeth of his staff, between Mdioui and the general a 
strong personal attachment existed, to take his last fare- 
well. He closed the door, and after a brief interchange 



JESUS WILL TAKE ME HOME. 61 

of sympathies, the general took his New Testament and 
read to him the fourteenth chapter of John. The consolatory 
words have been often heard at the bed of the dying, 
giving strength to the soul for the last conflict : "Let not j^our 
heart be troubled : ye beUeve in God, believe also in me. 
In my Father's house are many mansions : if it were not 
so, I would have told you; I go to prepare a place for you. 
And if I go and pi-epare a place for you, I will come again, 
and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye 
may be also." 

The general then knelt in prayer, and commended his 
wounded friend to the compassionate God and Father of 
all those who trust in Him, and, rising from his knees, 
clasped him in one long, fond, weeping embrace. Thus 
the heroes parted. One went to pursue the Rebels against 
his government. The other died, in a few days, in perfect 
peace, cordially acquiescing in God's will, and firmly rely- 
ing on the merits of his Saviour. 



XIV. JESUS WILL TAKE ME HOME. 

When Colonel Herman Canfield was wounded at the 
battle of Pittsburg Landing, knowing that his wound 
would be fatal, he expressed a wish to liis young brother- 
in-law that he might be taken to his home and family. 
But as the battle raged, the enemy pressed upon them, so 
that they were in momentary fear of being made prisoners. 
The surgeon, chaplain, and others who were looking after 
the wounded, were taken and borne away. Strange as it 
may appear, the two relatives were left unmolested. Alone 
and in such a condition, the moment was one of anxiety 
and of trial to them both. His brother-in-law was not able, 
without aid, to convey him to a place of safety ; and he 



62 MEMOEI^S OF THE WAR. 

expressed a fear that he should not be able to comply with 
his request. To this apprehension, the colonel calmly re- 
plied, "Never mind, Charley, Jesus will take me home." 

Oh! what childlike trust, what Christian faith, is there 
expressed ! Having lived near to God, and long trusted in 
his sure promises, he had no doubts now. He knew that 
the Lord of hosts was present on the battle-field as well as 
in the peaceful home. As he lay there, with his life-blood 
ebbing from a ghastly wound in his lungs, he testified of 
the goodness of God, and showed with what fearlessness a 
Christian may yield his soul to him who gave it. 

At last assistance arrived, and the wounded man was 
borne on a stretcher through low, marshy defiles, and over 
rough, pathless woodland, toward the Tennessee. At 
night they encamped upon its bank. It was the last night 
he passed upon earth ; a dark and fearful one it was to his 
companions. A storm raged about them. The very ele- 
ments seemed pouring forth their sad requiems for the 
dying and the dead. During the vivid flashes of lightning, 
they had glimpses of the agonized features of their loved 
commander. And many were their anxious inquiries; but 
he assured them, that though his physical sufferings were 
great, his soul -was at peace w^ith God, and he knew he 
soon would be at rest. Doubtless, he caught glimpses of 
that brighter world where darkness and death cannot 
enter because God is the light and life thereof What 
that brave soldier and true Christian suffered during that 
night of agony, none but God can know. He did not 
murmur at his fate, and thought not his life too great a 
sacrifice for the cause in which he fell. 

The following day he was removed to a hospital ship, 
where his wounds were carefully dressed. But he grad- 
ually grew weaker until evening; when, leaving tender 



THE STORr OF NOLAN. 63 

messages for his loved wife and children, he calmly com* 
mitted his soul to God, and Jesus took him home. 



XV. THE STOEY OF NOLAN. 

The Rev. Dr. Marks, after one of the battles on the 
Peninsula, in which some of our men were captured, gave 
himself up as a prisoner to the rebels, that he might not 
be separated from those over whom he watched as a relig- 
ious guide. On one occasion, he went to the Brackett 
House, on the battle-field, where were four hundred and 
fifty of our wounded men. The flag of the country was 
printed on one of the publications which he was distribut- 
ing; and he mentions that he often saw those mutilated men 
lift it to their lips, and kiss the emblem of our nationality, 
undeterred by the presence and taunts of the enemy. 

There Avas one remarkable man in that group of suflerers 
whose story, as recounted by this gentleman, deserves to be 
told from one age to another. His name was Nolan. His 
right leg had been cut olF by a cannon-shot, and he was 
lying in the midst of fifty or sixty men in one of the rooms. 

As I came up to him, I saw that his face was beam- 
ing with smiles, and, from his appearance, I could not have 
supposed for a moment that there was a single pang of 
pain in that body. I asked him how he had endured 
his suffering. He said, " I was three days and three nights 
out on the battle-field, and all that time heard the whisper- 
ings of angels, and I only could look up to the stars and 
think every one of them sang to me. The question of my 
own personal safety, as a believer in Christ, was settled six 
years ago ; and now I want that all my friends should feel 
as I do." And then there would burst forth from his lips 
that sweet song, — 



64 MEMORIALS OF THE AVAR. 

" Jesus, my God, I know Ins name, 
His name is all my trust; 
Nor will lie put my soul to shame, 
Nor let my hope be lost." 

And this man, even in the midnight hour, vronld be sing- 
ing, and comforting those poor men around him. Subse- 
quently he was carried to Richmond, a prisoner. I fol- 
lowed my charge to that city. And as I was one day pass- 
ing through the great hall of the prison, where some four 
hundred men were lying, in their wounds and agony, cover- 
ing every inch of the floor, as I stepped over one lacerated 
limb and another, and looked down into their burning eyes, 
I heard that song again, sweeter and sweeter, and more 
and more distinct. At length I found my way to the 
singer, and it was the same man, still singing, — 

"Jesus, my God, I know his name." 

And so he comforted the hundreds of men about him, to 
whom he could not go, and silenced their murmurs and 
stilled their groans, by this hymn. 

Afterward it was thought by the physician that he must 
die, and it was told to Nolan. 

I said to him, "It is very probable that to-day you will 
be called to appear before God, and stand with the great 
Father before the divine throne." 

"Blessed be God!" he said. "I shall be detailed from 
the battle-field to go up and be with Jesus forever; 
detailed to dwell in the world of light and glory; detailed 
to be wounded and to bleed and to die no more. But," 
he continued, " doctor, I am not going to die to-day. I feel 
that I shall live to go away from this place." 

And through that hour of great danger the man did live 
by the joy of his soul, and afterward was carried to Fort- 
ress Monroe. I heard from a soldier afterward, that there 
he was still singing as before, and that subsequently he was 



SUDDEXLT AT REST. 65 

removed thence to Washington, and there died, and went 
up unto the bosom of his Saviour. 



XVI. THE DYIXG HAND ON THE BIBLE. 

On the same battle-iield, (says this devoted chapLain,) I 
remember that as I went to a spot where many of our 
wounded soldiers were lying, I came to the side of a man 
who was just dying. I folded his hands together, and told 
him to look up to the Lamb of God that taketh away tlie 
sin of the world, and before I had done praying he was 
gone. I stooped down and lifted up a Bible that he held 
in his hand, when he died, that I might find the name of 
the man who had departed, and might bear to his friends 
the testimony that his hand, as he relinquished his hold on 
life, was i-esting on the Word of God. 

A soldier by his side said, " Sir, do not take the Bible 
away. The print is plainer than my own, and I wish to 
read it. My friend here and myself read the Bible to- 
gether through the long hours of the night. We prayed 
together, and now he has only gone a step before me 
into the good kingdom. I shall soon be there. I want 
to read it until my eyes become too dim to see any more." 
I said to him that I did not wish to take away the Bible. 
I found that this man was likewise sustained by a sense of 
the Saviour's presence. He felt that it was nothing — yes, 
nothing — to die, supported as he was by the peace and 
joy of conscious reconciliation to God. 

XYII. SUDDENLY AT EEST. 

One of the Second Regiment of the Rhode Island Vol- 
unteers, while he was resting for a moment during a lull in 
6* 



G6 MEMORIES OF THE WAR. 

the battle of Bull Run, was seen to take a Testament from 
his pocket. He was in the act of reading it as a ball struck 
him, and he fell dead. He was a man of established char- 
acter as a Christian. His life testified that he was mindful 
of the charge, " Watch, for ye know not what hour your 
Lord doth come." He was called away at the moment liis 
eye rested on the promise made to those who "fight a good 
fight, who have kept the faith." In a moment, in the twink- 
ling of an eye, he w^as at rest in heaven. He was one of 
those for whom the Master had in reserve some better 
thing. 



XVni. SUCH ARE MINISTERING SPIRITS. 

Perhaps in no sphere of effort relating to the War have 
more self-denial and true benevolence been manifested 
than in the hospital labors performed by Christian women, 
who have devoted themselves in all parts of the land to 
the care of our wounded, sick, and dying soldiers. A vol- 
ume should be written to preserve the remembrance of such 
services. The following sketch, in the Chicago New Cove- 
nant, illustrates the spirit of this class of laborers. 

I cannot, says the writer, close this letter from Cairo 
without a passing word in regard to one whose name is 
mentioned by thousands of our soldiers with gratitude and 
blessing. Miss Mary Safford is a resident of this town, 
whose life, since the beginning of the war, has been devoted 
to the amelioration of the soldier's lot and his comfort in 
the hospital. She is a young lady, petite in figure, unpre- 
tending, but highly cultivated, by no means officious, and 
so wdiolly unconscious of her excellences and the great 
work that she is achieving that I fear this public allusion 
to her may pain her modest nature. Her sweet, young face, 



SUCH ARE MINISTERING SPIRITS. 67 

full of benevolence, her pleasant voice and winning manner, 
install her in every one's heart directly; and the more one 
sees of her, the more they admire her great soul and her 
noble nature. Not a day elapses but she is found in the 
hospitals, unless indeed she is absent on an errand of mercy 
up the Tennessee, or to the hospitals in Kentucky. 

Every sick and wounded soldier in Cairo knows and 
loves her, and, as she enters the ward, every pale face 
brightens at her approach. As she passes along, she in- 
quires of each one how he has passed the night, if he is 
well supplied with books or tracts, and if there is anything 
she can do for him. All tell her their story frankly, — the 
man old enough to be her father, and the boy of fifteen, 
who should be out of the army and at home with his 
mother. 

For one, she must write a letter to his friends at home ; 
she must sit down and read at the cot of another ; must 
procure, if the doctor will allow it, this or that article of ' 
food for a third ; must soothe and encourage a fourth, who 
desponds and is ready to give up his hold on life ; must 
pray for a fifth, who is afraid to die, and wrestle with him 
till light shines through the dark valley ; — and so on, 
varied as may be the personal or spiritual wants of the 
sufferers. 

Doctors, nurses, medical directors, and army officers, are 
all her true friends; and so judicious and trustworthy is 
she, that the Chicago Sanitary Commission have given her 
carte blanche to draw on their stores at Cairo for anything 
she may need in her errands of mercy. Slie is performing 
a noble work, and that too in the most quiet and uncon- 
scious manner. 



68 .MEMOr^.S OF THE AVAR. 



XIX. THE FIRST SABBATH Ii^ CAMP. 

The soUliers sent to Ship Island, at the mouth of the 
Mississippi, were chiefly frotn New Enghmcl. They consti- 
tuted the nucleus of the force, which, after a few months, 
bombarded the forts at the entrance of that river, and caj^- 
tured the city of New Orleans. 

On the first Sunday after the landing of the troops, the 
ordinary military labor was intermitted, and the day 
observed, as far as possible, in a religious manner. The 
Ninth Connecticut Regiment, under Colonel Cahil, con- 
sisted largely of Catholics, and mass was celebrated in the 
camp on the forenoon of this first Sabbath. The service 
was attended by many of the sailors and marines from the 
fort, and from vessels in the harbor. 

In the afternoon, the Twenty-sixth Regiment gathered 
€71 masse in front of their quarters, when Colonel Jones, 
taking a sand hillock for a pulpit, performed divine sendee. 
After the reading of selections of Scripture, a choir, selected 
fi'om the rank and file of the regiment, sang a hymn, and 
the band played an appropriate piece. Colonel Jones, in 
the absence of the chaplain. Rev. Mr. Babbage, then rose 
and addressed the men. He said he had never approached 
a duty when he felt so embarrassed as then. He regretted 
that lie must take the place of one so much more worthy 
than himself. They had been accustomed to observe 
the Sabbath at home ; they needed its salutary influences 
there, and he knew of no better means for securing them 
than such a service. He warned them of their dangers, 
urged upon them their duties, and assured them that if 
they obeyed the truth, without regarding the channel 
through which it might come to them, they wc uld be bene- 
fited and saved by it. 



THE FIEST SABBATH IN CAMP. ^ 69 

As an accompaniment to the solemn service, and re- 
minding us, says the narrator, that we are in a state of war, 
the gunboat "New London," across the sound, was engag- 
ing the enemy, and the booming of cannon was mingled 
with the notes of prayer and praise. It seemed a fitting 
inauguration of the great enterprise. Tlie scene was im- 
pressive. The speaker spoke to the hearts of the listeuers. 
The allusion to those distant homes in New England 
brought tears to eyes not accustomed to weep. 



CHAPTER III. 

COURAGE PROMOTED BY TRUST IN GOD. 



I. A MESSAGE EEOM THE BIBLE. 

In the course of the first year of the present war, the 
rebels made an attack upon one of our regiments doing 
picket duty on the Maryland side of the Potomac. There 
were three houses standing upon the Virginia shore which 
afforded shelter to the enemy, and it became necessary to 
have them removed. The colonel tried the effect of shell- 
ing them, but, owing to the short range of his guns and 
the great distance, could not demolish them. The only 
thing accomplished by this was driving the enemy out of 
them to the shelter of the woods beyond. 

The colonel then asked for volunteers to cross the 
river and burn the buildings. Only two men came forward, 
one a private, the other an orderly sergeant. The colonel 
gave the command to the sergeant, and told him to select 
as many men as he needed and go. Selecting three men 
from his own company to manage the boat and assist him, 
the brave fellows departed on their perilous mission. Ere 
they reached the middle of the stream, they were greeted 
with a shower of bullets. Volley followed volley, each 
passing over their heads without touching a man. As they 
neared the shore, the house immediately in front of them, 
which was a large brick one, offered them shelter for land- 
ing; and it was not many minutes after ere the smoke 
issuing from the roof showed their work was accomplished 

70 



A WORD SPOKEN IN SEASON. 71 

there. The next house was soon in flames also; but the 
third stood some distance from the river; to get to it they 
must cross a ploughed field directly under the fire of the 
musketry. Here, as in crossing the river, they were made 
the target for the enemy's bullets. Strange to say, this 
"forlorn hope" returned uninjured, and were received with 
enthusiastic cheers from their brave comrades. 

The young sergeant, upon being complimented upon his 
courage, and interrogated as to the source of it, replied, 
" It is not in me ; give God the glory. When I started, I 
committed my beloved wife and child to his fatherly care, 
should I never return. I breathed a prayer for myself and 
the little band Avith me. I went further. I entreated that 
we might all return in safety ; and as I stepped from that 
boat, these words of the ninety-first Psalm came forcibly 
to my mind : ' A thousand shall fill at thy side, and ten 
thousand at thy right hand ; but it shall not come nigh 
thee. Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the 
reward of the wicked. Because thou hast made the Lord, 
which is my refuge, even the Most High, thy habitation, 
there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague 
come nigh thy dwelling.' I received it as an answer to 
my prayer; and though we could hear the bullets whizzing 
by, almost touching us, I felt no more fear of them than if 
they had been hailstones." 



II. A WOED SPOKEN IN SEASON. 

It is related that a colonel in the army went to Gover- 
nor Buckingham, of the State of Connecticut, and asked 
him to appoint a godly man, who cared for the souls of men, 
as chaplain for his regiment. ^le said he had observed 
that soldiers who were Christians were more reliable than 



iZ MEMOll^iS OF THE WAR. 

those who were not; thnt in the clay of battle tliey were 
more courageous. The governor tohl him he would see to 
it that he had the services of such a chaplain. After 
this promise the governor said, " Colonel, you manifest 
a great interest in the religious welfare of your soldiers. 
This is commendable ; but have you no concern for the 
salvation of your own soul ? " This question, so unexpect- 
edly put to iiiin, gave a new turn to Iiis thc^ughts. He 
was led to see his own neglect of religion, and his in- 
consistency, as he had never seen them before, and to feel 
tliat t]ie gos|)cl might have claims on himself as well as 
on others. On returning to his command, he sought the 
counsel of a Chi-istian friend, and at lengtti came to a 
settled faith in the Redeemer. 

Not long after this result, occurred the bloody battle of 
Roanoke,^ and Colonel Russel, the officer referred to, was 
among the dead. He fell at the head of the brave troops 
whom he had been anxious to make braver by planting the 
fear of God in their hearts. He himself acknowledged to 
an acquaintance that tliose few, faithful words of the gov- 
ernor were the means of arousing his conscience, and lead- 
ing him to seek in earnest God's fivor. The timely 
admonition, as we have reason to belie\e, was the Spirit's 
instrumentality for preparing him for bis sudden departure. 



III. MxVRCn OF THE NEW YORK Sl:VEXTH TO WASHINGTOX. 

A member of the New York Seventh Regiment informs 
us how they spent the first Sabbath, on their memorable 
journey to Washington. This regiment was the first that 
left the city or State of New York, in response to the 
summons of the President, after the fall of Fort Sumter. 

1 Which was fought under General Uurusido, February- 8, lb02. 



MAKCri OF THE ]S". Y. SEVEXTH TO WASniXGTON". id 

Tlio marcli occupied several days. The railroad, on the 
dh-ect route between Pliiladelphia and Baltimore, had been 
destroyed by the rebels. Our men were obliged to go by 
the way of Annapolis, and to rebuild those portions of the 
road as they proceeded, where the rails had been torn up, 
in order to prevent the arrival of succor in time to save 
the Capital. 

On tlie Sabbath, at sunrise, says our informant, the 
reveille beat, and blankets, guns, knapsacks, — everything 
was stowed away, and arrangements made to have service 
at half-past ten o'clock. An order w^as hardly necessary 
for this purpose, for all seemed to vie with each other to 
keep holy the Sabbath-day. Soon after breakfast, some 
three hundred had gathered on the saloon-deck, and M'ere 
singing hymns appropriate to the occasion, such as "Guide 
nie, O thou great Jehovah," " When I can read my title 
clear," and " On Jordan's stormy banks I stand." At half- 
past ten the services commenced, conducted by the chap- 
lain, Rev. Dr. Weston. ISTearly every member had brought 
with him a prayer-book or a Testament, and all who were 
near enough to follow the exercise had them in use at this 
time. It is but truth to say that the Sabbath was j)assed 
as every Sabbath should be, — in honoring God. 

Just as we left Annapolis, most of the boys, at a tem- 
porary halt, took out their Testaments and read a chapter ; 
and I saw a number go aside to offer a prayer that God« 
w^ould be with us on our eventful journey. I myself was 
among the number. When I returned, I opened my Bible 
casually at the forty-sixth Psalm, which the boys of Com- 
pany A requested me to read aloud. It was certainly very 
appropriate. 

Under the circumstances in which we were placed, 
such passages as these seemed to be written truly for our 
use and learning : — "God is our refuge and strength j a 
7 



74 WEMOIM.\^ OF THE WAR. 

very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, 
though the earth be removed, and though the mountains 
be carried into the midst of the sea. The Lord of Hosts 
is with us ; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Be still, and 
know that I am God; I will be exalted among the heathen, 
I will be exalted in the earth ; the Lord of Hosts is with 
us ; the God of Jacob is our refuge." 

Such is the spirit in which many of the volunteers have 
gone forth to defend their country. The men who march 
by prayer are not the men to retreat in the day of battle, 
through cowardice, or a feeble sense of their responsibility, 
as the champions of law and liberty. 



In the summer of 1862, a private named Scott, who be- 
longed to the Tliird Vermont Regiment, was court-mar- 
tialled for sleeping on his post, near Chain Bridge, on the 
upper Potomac. He Avas convicted and sentenced to be" 
shot. The decision was affirmed by the general, and the 
day fixed for his execution. The culprit, who had more 
than ordinary strength of character, did not beg for pardon 
or complain, but was willing to meet hi»s flite. 

The appointed day drew near. The necessity of war 
required an example, and this case was thought to be an 
ajx^ravated one. But the circumstances reached the ears 
of the President, and he was disposed to show mercy. He 
signed a pardon, and sent it to the camp, in the belief that 
he had done all that was necessary. Soon the last day 
itself arrived. Having heard nothing, the President began 
to fear lest the pardon had not reached its destination. 
The telegraph was put in requisition, but no answer was 
received. There was not a moment to lose. "Bring up 



THE DYING SOLDIER's PEAYER. 75 

my carriage," he ordered. The carriage came; the impor- 
tant state papers were laid aside, and, beneath the hot, broil- 
ing sun and over dusty roads, he rode to the camp, distant 
about ten miles, and ascertained for himself that the matter 
was safe. The pardon was not made known to the soldier, 
till he had already kneeled down upon his coffin, and the 
executioners with loaded muskets were awaiting the order 
to fire. None except a few officers knew that he was to 
be reprieved. 

The President may have forgotten the occurrence, but 
the grateful soldier did not forget it. At the battle of 
Lee's Mils, near Yorktown, on the 16th of April, a divis- 
ion of the Vermont troops was ordered to cross a stream 
and attack a strong work of the insurgents on the other 
side. As the Third Vermont charged upon the rifle- 
pits here, they were met by a deadly volley from the 
rebels. The first man who fell was William S.?ott of 
company K, whose life the President's clemency had 
spared. Six bullets pierced his body. His comrades 
caught him up, from the ground, and as his life-blood ebbed 
away, he exclaimed. "Bear witness, I have proved myself 
not a coward, and am not afraid to die ; " and, then, amid 
the groans of the dying, and the shouts of the enemy, 
with his last breath, he raised to heaven a prayer for the 
President. 

He was interred in the presence of his regiment, in a 
little grove, about two miles in the rear of the rebel fort. 
The grave was dug in the centre of a group of holly and 
vines, with cherry-trees then in blossom on the outer cir- 
cle. In turning up the earth, a skull and other bones, and 
several metal buttons were found, showing that this identi- 
cal spot had been used in the Revolutionary War, for the 
burial of those who fell in like manner as martyrs for their 
country. The chaplain related the history of young Scott 



76 MEMORIAL OF THE WAR. 

to the boys, as they stood with uncovered heads around 
the grave. Of the President's noble conduct he spoke in 
fitting terms of admiration. 

The military offence of the brave soldier, was not with- 
out its mitigation. It was found that he had been on duty 
two nights in succession ; had served voluntarily the second 
night for a sick comrade, and on the third had been over- 
come by sleep. Shortly before he enlisted, he had avov/ed 
himself a disciple of Christ, in Groton, his native town, 
and, according to good testimony, had lived a consistent life 
while in camp. It was his possession of the "hope which 
is as an anchor to the soul, sure and steadfast," that made 
him so willing to suffer the penalty of the law, and van- 
quished his fears of death at the last moment.^ 



V. A SCENE IN THE LOG CHURCH. 

A scene which Mr. Alvord mentions as having taken 
place in the log-church ^ belongs to this class of our illus- 
trations. 

On a certain evening (he says), when we had met there 
for worship, I was surprised to see the colonel of the regi- 
ment enter, and seat himself among the boys on the rude 
benches. He buried his face in both his hands. The 
soldiers rose one after another, and spoke of their happy 
experience in the new life. They declared their purpose 
to serve God, and requested prayers that others would 
remember them, that they might not fiilter, but be 
strengthened for every trial of faith and courage before 
them. Erelong, the colonel, to my astonishment, sprang 
to his feet, — his figure tall, soldier-like, imposing. He 

1 I have added this statement respecting his religious character from an au- 
thentic source. 

2 See page 49. / 



A SCENE IN THE LOG CHURCH. 77 

folded his arms upon his broad chest, and began v^ry de- 
liberately to say to the soldiers, "I am here to-night where, 
as yonr mihtary commander, I should be; and I am here 
especially to say to you two things to which I want you to 
listen. The first is, if I fall in the battle we are about to 
fight, I want you to remember me, fellow-soldiers, not as a 
gallant military officer, but as a humble, Cliristian man." 
It seems he had been a member of one of the churches in 
'New York, but after joining the army had not made him- 
self known as a decided follower of Christ. "I want you," 
said he (dwelling on the same thought), "if I should fiiU,^ 
to remember me as a humble Christian. Do not talk of 
me as a gallant commander, but think of me and speak of 
me as having died a soldier of the cross. And then," he 
continued, "fellow-soldiers, there is another thing I want to 
testify to, and that is, that my men, whom I see here around 
me in this meeting, are the men whom I have never known 
to flinch in battle. My eye falls upon the bravest of my reg- 
iment to-night." 

A rustle was heard through the cabin and a murmur 
from the boys, as he said this; for their hearts were 
strengthened by such testimony. And then, after a few 
more words, he said, "Let us pray;" and he poured 
out his soul to God for himself, for his fellow-oflacers, for 
his regiment, for his country, for the battle to come, and 
closed with a hearty "Amen!" to which response was 
made by all in the house. 

1 They were then on the eve of the battle of Fredericksburg in Virginia. 

7* 



78 MEMORIALW)F THE WAR. 



VI. PKAYEE IN TIME OF BATTLE. 

It is a common saying of the officers (adds Mr. Alvord),tliat 
as a class, the men who stand firmest when tlie battle rages 
are the Christian men. Many is the time I have talked with 
them about such scenes, and they have told me that tlieir 
souls have stood firm in that hour of strife, and that they 
have been perfectly calm. I have had Christian generals 
tell me this. I have heard General Howard often say, that 
in the midst of the most terrific portion of the battle, 
when his heart for a moment quailed, he would pause and 
lift up his soul to God, and receive strength. "And," said 
he, "I have gone often through battles without a particle 
of fear. I have thought God sent me to defend my coun- 
try. I believed it was a Christian duty to stand in the 
foremost of the fight, and why should I be afraid?" 

General Howard, who makes this declaration concerning 
himself, has shared in nearly all the severest fighting in 
Virginia and Pennsylvania since the beginning of the war, 
and bears in his scarred frame marks of his valor, and of 
hair-breadth escapes from death. No one can surpass him 
in skill and daring; but his highest title is that of a Chris- 
tian, which he has maintained without reproach or question 
in the camp, as well as elsewhere. 

The voice of such a man deserves to be heard and 
regarded, when, as in the following order, he protests 
against a too common vice in the army. " I have noticed," 
he says, "with extreme pain, the use of profane oaths and lan- 
guage among the officers and men of my command. I need 
not remind any tliinking man of the vulgarity and mean- 
ness of the practice, nor speak of it as a positive violation 
of God's law, but will simply appeal to the good sense and 
better feelings of the members of my command, and urge 



HE WAS OXLY A PRIVATE. 79 

them, by all they hold dear, to abstain from insulting Him 
whose protection they need." 



VII. HE WAS ONLY A PRIVATE. 

But he was faithful in that sphere : — and every example 
is instructive, noble, according to the elevation of the aim 
that we strive to reach, the use made by us of the oppor- 
tunities at our command, the manner in which the impulses 
of conscience control a man, and make him earnest in his 

adherence to what is right. The case of Andrew B , 

therefore, stands high on the record of faithful witnesses. 
We admire the character of the obscure soldier so much 
the more, because it was formed against adverse influences 
and sets forth so clearly the power of that grace of God, 
which he is ever ready to give to us to help us in our du- 
ties and struggles. 

The subject of this sketch^ was born in Brooklyn, New 
York. His pai-ents were not Christians. His own honest 
words tell what he was at the beo-inninsf. 

"When quite a child," he says, "I went to a Sunday 
school, but soon quit going, and became a bad boy. 
Tumbling round the streets with other bad boys, I began 
to curse and swear and drink. I went to meeting now 
and then, but only to see what I could see. I did 
not like to hear the preaching; it always made me 
feel so restless and unhappy." After a time, his father 
moved down the hay, and "went to oystering," where 
Andrew's habits, in some respects, became worse than 
ever. If he heard preaching, it would alarm him; and 
on one occasion he was so distressed that he resolved to 

1 It has been compiled from Mi*. Alvord's Journal. 



80 MEMOEIA^ 



OF THE AVAR. 



forsake bis sins and serve the Lord ; but bis good resolu- 
tions soon vanished, and again he phmged into sin. 

At length, one Sabbath evening, he was walking with a 
company of young persons to a place of frolic, when, on 
passing a church, one of them said, " Come, let us go in." 
They did so, and, as he states, " we had not been there 
fifteen minutes before my convictions returned stronger 
than before." Near the close of the service, he was in 
great distress. "It seemed to me," — still using his own ex- 
pressions, — "that, if I did not give my heart to God tlien^ I 
was lost ! There was a dreadful struggle in my feelings ; 
at length I gave up, and yielded all my heart to the Lord. 
From that time, I felt happy, and commenced a new life, 
working all I could for my Saviour." 

He returned after a time to Brooklyn, where he " still 
tried to do his duty." "When the Rebellion broke out, he 
was among the first to hear the call of his country, and he 
enlisted for three years. He has suffered much, and been 
in many battles, but, as he says, "I am not tired of serv- 
ing my country, and the Lord is still with me." 

This young soldier, thus made a trophy of divine grace, 
with very little education, or previous religious advantages, 
is here in tlie field, an ornament to his profession, and an 
example to all who know him. Without having risen to 
any rank, being still "a private," he is indeed, a soldier of 
the cross, true to the Cni:)tain of his salvation. 

In tlie regiment, which has now no cha])lain, he main- 
tains a regular weekly prayer-meeting, in addition to occa- 
sional meetings. On the muster-roll are several professors 
of religion, yet no other one in the whole regiment takes 
any active part; but Andrew is not discouraged. He 
reads and talks and sings and prays. Few attended at 
first, but more came, erelong, especially of the officers. 
There is an attempt at ridicule, sometimes, but he is proof 



HE WAS ONLY A PEIVATE. 81 

against it. " When they make a noise," he says, " I feel 
ready to sink ; but I throw myself right into the arms of 
Jesus, and I begin to rise and rise till I am lifted above the 
tumult. The blessed Spirit comes and breathes courage 
into my heart, and soon the boys are quiet and crowd 
around me, and I have a glorious meeting." 

At the battle of Fredericksburg, Andrew, with his com- 
rades was in the hottest of the fire. The night before, as 
they lay on the bank of the Rappahannock, in expectation 
of the carnage of the morrow he summoned them to 
prayer. . His voice, remarkable for sweetness and melody, 
was heard singing his usual call to the meeting for worship. 
Twenty-five or thirty of the men gathered around him. 
He talked to them "of the salvation which sinners need. 
It might be their last time. The battle was at hand, with 
its certainty of death to so many. As to himself, if such 
was God's will, he was willing to go ; and he then exhorted 
them all to be prepared for the issue, whether life or death. 
"They stood round me in the darkness," says he, "and 
listened. I felt the presence of the Spirit, and spoke to 
them twenty minutes. No one made fun of me that 
night." After singing 

" Jesus, lover of my soul, 
Let me to thy bosom fly," 

he prayed, and his fellow-soldiers returned solemnly to their 
quarters. 

After the battle (he escaped unhurt), they lay on the 
field all night, close to the enemy, and also during all 
the next day. Some were wounded, whom he assisted in 
any way that he could. It was an awful place. Death 
was on every side. On the next night, they fell back a 
little, to the outskirts of the city ; and again Andrew had 
his meeting. He invited a few into a small house, read hia 



82 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

Bible, sung, fiiul, under such afflictive circumstances, tender- 
ly addressed those around him. He says, "I was afraid I 
shoukl not have another opportunity, and I tried to be 
faithfuL I coukl not close with prayer as we were called 
upon to 'fall in,' and I had to stop the meeting suddenly." 
Thus, this dear youth, the hero of battle-fields, is also the 
Christian hero ! 

A few evenings ago, in the still twilight of the Sabbath, 
I heard his voice within the precincts of his regiment sing- 
ing, and then in a few earnest words dwelling on the love 
of God. 

He has his meetings, not only in camp, but on long 
marches. " Right out here in this lot, I had one," said he, 
" when we were marching on." He is also one of the most 
faithful in the distribution of religious tracts ; he comes 
often to my tent for supplies, and before leaving always 
wants a season of prayer. Asking him one day how he 
found a place where he could pray in secret, he replied, "I 
go down into the woods, and especially if I am to have a 
meeting. After that the cross is easy. I enjoy the work 
and expect a blessing." He complains of not having time 
to go around among his companions privately as much as 
he could wish, as he must be often on picket and fatigue 
duty, and always ready to fall into the ranks. "It seems 
to me," he says, " as if I could draw them to Christ if I 
could only get near to them." 

Andrew modestly speaks of "a number of conversions." 
"One sergeant begins to talk with me as if he had a change 
of heart." " I am sure there is more attention among the 
ofiicers than there was. Eight or ten attended my meet- 
ing last Sabbath. One of the lieutenants, at the close of 
the service, came and took my hand, saying he felt that 
every word I said was true, and told me to go on with the 
meeting. Oh, how that encouraged me ! " 



EELICS FROM THE BATTLE-FIELD. 83 

Let it not be thought that he is less courageous because he 
fears God, or foils in his duty as a soldier because he is 
so active in religious things. The very opposite is true, as 
what has been related shows. The testimony of the offi- 
cers is, " He is ready, cheerful under any order ; his lion 
heart in battle seems ignorant of fear." And why should 
it not be so, when he lives so as to be ready for this world 
or the world hereafter? Surely the time cometh when 
such a private, though unhonored here, though lowly-born, 
shall outrank princes. 



VIII. KELICS FROM THE BATTLE-FIELD. 

In the office of Dr. T., of Cambridge, Mass. (says^ visitor 
to that place), we were recently shown some very suggest- 
ive relics from the army of the Southwest. This Christian 
surgeon had been in the hospital at Memphis, Tennessee. 
He first laid on the table a skeleton foot and the ankle- 
bones, the latter of which were shattered to splinters by a 
Minie ball. It seemed scarcely possible that a single bullet 
could so break in pieces nearly the entire length of bone 
from the knee to the foot. Yet the heroic soldier lived, 
and endured all the suffering without a murmur. By the 
side of these fragments Dr. T. laid the fractured heel- 
joint of another victim of the demon of war, with the 
remark that the case shed light on the question of needless 
amputation. The effort to save the limb cost the man his 
life. When Dr. T. inquired of the dying soldier what 
message he had to send to his family and friends, he re- 
plied promptly, "Tell them I am ready to go home to 
them, home to God or back to the war." These were his 
last words. His sense of accountability, his faith in the un- 
seen and eternal, destroyed every fear except that of fail- 
ing to know and perform his duty. 



84 MEMOftlAM^ OF THE WAR. 

Another, whose hi]) was shattered, when asked a similar 
question, repHed, "Tell them I die as I have lived, triumph- 
ing in Christ." 

Such are some of the relics and the dying utterances 
from the plain of conflict for the Republic and its enslaved 
millions. What a history it will have can be fully known 
only when the record in heaven shall be revealed. 



IX. WORDS OF THE MARTYR STEPHEN. 

At the battle of Shiloh (relates one who took part in it), 
a young man of our regiment was wounded by a rifle-bullet 
in the breast, as we were forming in line of battle, and be- 
fore we had fired upon the enemy. We carried him back 
to a tent in the rear of our position. The surgeon examined 
his wound and whispered to me that it was mortal. The 
soldier overheard what the surgeon said, and replied, " Do 
not be anxious for me; I am not afraid to die. Understand 
me ; I am not afraid to die. I went into battle repeating 
to myself what Stephen the first Christian martyr said, 
'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.' I believe he heard my 
prayer, and beyond that I have no anxiety." 

He was in such pain that he could not bear to be moved 
any further, and, as the enemy were driving our troops back 
at that time, and bullets were whizzing through the tent, 
even while we were dressing his wound, we were obliged, 
after doing what we could for him, to leave him on the 
spot and hurry away. Shells and cannon-balls were raining 
around us as we made our escape. 

We never expected to see our comrade again in this life. 
But, to our surprise, he was brought into camp, after having 
lain forty-eight hours on the battle-field. The rebels occu- 
pied that part of the ground nearly all the time after we 



THE SOLDIEE-BOY S LAST HYMN. 85 

left him, and the Lord pnt it into their hearts to be very- 
kind to this young man. They brought him water when the 
canteen that we left for him was empty, and, as he said, 
" they treated me as a brother." 

He lived two days after he was brought into camp. His 
sufferings were very great. But he never complained. He 
always looked up with a smile when I went into the tent. 
His trust was in Jesus; and the Saviour was with him, help- 
ing him to bear the pain, and driving away from him the 
fear of death. It was a sad and yet a beautiful sight, to 
see the young soldier dying so peacefully in our hospital 
tent in the woods of Tennessee. 

" Sweet be the death of those 
Wlio for their country die, 
Sleep on her bosom for repose, 
, And triumph where they lie." 



X. THE SOLDIEE-BOY'S LAST HYMN". 

In the battle of Fort Donelson there was a lad, fifteen 
years old only, who had enlisted as a drummer. He was 
remarkable for a tender conscience, for earnestness of 
spirit. He had been accustomed to take an active part in 
the meetings for prayer in the camp, and had inspired all 
who knew him with the utmost confidence in his intelligence 
and sincerity as a Christian disciple. In this fearful battle 
he was wounded, having one of his arms shot off close to 
the shoulder. An eye-witness reports that when last seen, 
this child, as we may almost call him, was sitting, leaning 
against a tree, and, as the tide of life was ebbing, from the 
loss of blood, his countenance was radiant with joy, while 
he sang the hymn, — 

" Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
Nearer to Thee, 



86 MEMORIALS OF THE WAB 



^LS 



E'en though it be a cross 

That raiseth me ; 
Still all my song shall be,— 
Nearer, my God, to Thee, 

Nearer to Thee." 



XI. THE TRACT 

' A young soldier, having received a package of tracts, 
wrote a letter of the following purport to the donor as a 
testimony to the value of such publications. 

"I have been in the service," he says, "nineteen months. 
When I first volunteered for my country, I was wild and 
reckless ; but I bless God I was not left long in that con- 
dition. I had not been in the army over two months, 
when I was called to risk my life in the battle of Peach 
Mountain, but, happily I was not without a friend in that 
trying hour. I had a brother with me in tlie same company, 
who, I believe, was a true Christian. When we were led 
up in line of battle against the enemy, this brother was by 
my side, and w^hispered these words into -my ear : ' I shall 
fall in this battle, but I fall for my country, and God will 
take care of my soul.' Tliis w^as a true presentiment. The 
third round was not fired befoi-e I held him in my arms, 
shot through the breast, but apparently in no pain. 

"I shall never forget the words he spoke to me at that 
moment. His first thought was not for himself, but his 
country, dearer to him than life. ' Oh,' he exclaimed, 'are 
we beaten ? ' I told him, No. ' Leave me,' he says ; ' go to 
your post and fight. It is a good cause, and I am willing 
to die for it.' He took me by the hand, and said, ' Hear 
my last words, brother : Be a praying man, and you need 
not then fear death, whether it comes at home or in battle.' 

" He requested me to take all the things out of his pocket, 



THE MODEL OF A CHAPLAIN. 87 

and among them was a tract headed ' Come to Jesus.' As 
he saw me looking at it, he asked me what it was. I told 
him. 'Yes,' said he, 'that is the tract that has made me 
what I am, I owe to it this peace, and all my hopes. 
Brother,' he continued, ' keep it, read it, and pray God to 
bless it to you, and to forgive you.' 

"I have done as he bade me. The blessing followed, and 
I share, I trust, the peace which supported him. I believe 
God has done for me all that can be done for man in this 
world. I have now a hope of seeing that slain brother 
again in heaven." 



XII. THE MODEL OF A CHAPLAIN. 

A soldier on board of a steamer on the Mississippi was 
asked respecting the character of the chaplain in his regi- 
ment. Hin eyes gleamed with enthusiasm and delight at 
the mention of his name. 

" Why," said he, " over at Frederickstown, as our lines 
were beginning to give way, and many thought the day 
was lost, our chaplain stepped right forward from the ranks, 
between us and the enemy's lines, knelt down upon the 
ground and lifted up his voice in most earnest prayer to 
God for divine help in the hour of need. I never was so 
impressed by any human act in my life. An inspiration as 
from God seemed to seize us all. We rallied at the instant, 
charged, drove the enemy before us, and gained the im- 
portant victory of Frederickstown, which perhaps has saved 
to us the State of Mississippi." 

It was an outburst of genuine Christian heroism; for this 
same chaplain is at the same time unsurpassed for his devo- 
tion to the line of his more strictly official duties. 

Another soldier says of him, "He is one of the best 



00 MEMORIALS OF THE AVAR. 

men in the world. He has a temperance-meeting and a 
Sabbath school one evening in the week, and has a prayer- 
meeting twice a week, and other meetings besides, as he is 
able to hold them ; and then he labors personally among 
the men, especially giving ns good books to read." He 
continued, "You would hardly believe if I should tell you 
the change that has come over our company. We had not 
when we enlisted, as far as I know, a single Christian man 
among them. It would not be easy to find a rougher set 
of fellows any where than were most of us; but now 
they have nearly all pledged themselves to abstain from 
profane swearing, from gambling, from intemperance, and 
other vices; and a good many have been converted to 
Christ. He comforts the sick and dying. I saw him 
with one of our comrades before he died, watching with 
him, and praying with him ; and when he died, he closed 
his eyes, and prepared his body with his own hands for the 
grave." 

The Rev. Mr. Savage,^ who reports the case of this 
chaplain, found the body of a personal friend among the 
slain, on the battle-field of Shiloh or Pittsburg Landing. 
He was a Congregational clergyman, in the first years of 
his manhood, who enlisted from motives of pure Christian 
patriotism. He was faithful, also, to the great Captain of 
our salvation. 

I had furnished him at difierent times with publications, 
which he had faithfully distributed in camp. He fell early 
in the battle of Sunday, and died, as the chaplain of the 
regiment testifies, "with a sweet, serene smile resting upon 
his finely-wrought features, — a smile that left its impress 
on the cold clay." 

Among the wounded on the same field he found another 

1 Who has earned for himself so excellent a name as a Christian laborer in 
our armifS at the West. 



WORSHIP OX THE FLxiTBOAT. 89 

personal friend, a Baptist minister, who was a lieutenant. 
He had been shot through the thigh, shattering the bone 
SO that it could not be set, and also through the arm. He 
lay for hours, after he was wounded, within the rebel lines, 
with his wounds undressed, unable to get even a drink of 
water; a part of the time the balls and shells fiilling thick 
around him. Yet he told me, as he lay there, he enjoyed 
some of the sweetest experiences of his life. He several 
times found himself unconsciously singing that sweet hymn : 

" When I can read my title clear, 
To mansions in the skies, 
I bid farewell to every fear, 
And wipe my Aveeping eyes." 

Such men, too, are examples of those whose fear of God 
and dependence on him have given them courage to face 
the enemy, and encounter death in obedience to the call of 
duty.i 

Xni. WORSHIP ON THE FLATBOAT. 

Commodore Foote, the praying commodore, as he has 
been truthfully called, acted often as his own chaplain. 
The following sketch of the services on his flatboat, on a 
certain Sunday, was given in a letter from the Mississippi 
fleet. It affords another proof of the an:?tiety of this noble 
man for the spiritual welfare of those who served under 
him, and of his conviction that he would have better 
soldiers in them if he could lead them to honor God and 
trust in Him.^ 

The sailors, clad in their clean, plain blue uniforms, con- 
gregated on the forward port side. We look around us, 

1 See Report of the American Tract Societj' for 1863, page 72. 

2 For other notices of this lamented officer, the reader is referred to pp. 35 and 
54 of this volume. 

8* 



90 MKMOlilALS OF THE WAR. 

and a scene presents itself very different from the, ordinary 
employment of warlike men. Here, in line on the star- 
board, we see the marines drawn up in line, or at ease, 
with their muskets and fixed bayonets resting on their left 
shoulder. In the foregromid is the capstan, covered with 
the " Union Jack," — its blue field and white stars adorning 
the patriotic pulpit. Around it stand Flag-ofiicer Foote, 
Lieutenant Phelps, Colonel Buford and other officei's. As 
the flag-ofiicer approaches, he is saluted by all hands, who 
stand with uncovered heads. The gay, glittering, showy 
uniforms of the officers are in striking contrast with the 
l^lain garb of the seamen and marines. Tlie flag-officer, in 
a few brief and eloquent remarks, reminds us that this is 
the Sabbath, — the day set apart for rest and the worship of 
the Most High. It is the first religious service, we are told, 
held on this flag-ship, because, on the last Sabbath we 
could not perform it, owing to an engagement with the 
enemy which could not be avoided. 

In the course of his address, he urged us to bear in mind 
our duty to be prepared to meet our Maker, and hoped 
that all, officers and men, would refrain from intemperance, 
profanity, every immoral practice, and be ready to give 
their account to God, let the summons come when and as 
it might. 

He also offered up a prayer from the Episcopal service. 
The services were impressive and interesting. While 
Flag-officer Foote was praying " Our Father, who art in 
Heaven," the report and zij), zip, zip, of shot or sliell from 
the enemy's guns could be distinctly heard by all present. 
The flag-ofiicer was calm and unmoved, liowever; he went 
forward eloquently and feelingly with the service until all 
was concluded in due form. 



THE CABIN A BETHEL. 91 



XIV. GAEMENTS EOLLED IN BLOOD. 

In this paragraph, a striking figure, an impersonation, if 
I may so call it, rises before us, which represents to us 
the barbarity of war on the one hand, and the ameliorating 
spirit of Christ's gospel on the other. 

In a regiment at Fort Donelson, which was engaged in a 
battle of three days at that point, was a chaplain, of 
whom one of the soldiers gives an excellent testimony. 
" He was with us," he says, " day after day ; and as soon as 
a man fell wounded, he would take him up in his arms, and 
carry him out where the surgeon could take care of him ; 
and the last day I saw him, his clothes, from head to feet, 
were literally dripping with the blood of dead and wounded 
men that he had carried off from the battle when at Fort 
Donelson. His health was impaired, and he went home, 
but came back again in a few weeks, and reached Pittsburg 
Landing on the day of the battle, and there again went 
with his regiment into that battle, and performed similar 
labors. He was again at the battle of Cross Lane, where 
he was taken prisoner, and remained a prisoner for some 
days because he was unwilling to leave his wounded men. 
The last I saw of him was at Memphis, where he embarked 
for Vicksburg, and he was again in those battles, and has 
been there, in like manner, a spiritual comforter, an angel 
of mercy and relief to the wounded and dying." 

XV. THE CABIN A BETHEL. 

The following circumstance is related of a compai;iy of 
volunteers, whom Captain Washington, of Dubuque, Iowa, 
forwarded to the lower Mississippi. 

They were on board of the Steamer Canada, on the way 



92 MEMOKIALS OF THE WAR. 

to St. Louis. It was Saturday evening, and most of the 
passengers in the cabin were engaged in conversation, or 
passing away their time with cards or dice, wliile some of 
the more rude were uttering the ribald jest or ungentle- 
manly oath. Amid this scene, one of the youthful soldiers 
seated himself at a table, and engaged in reading his Bible. 
Another and still another took their places around this 
temporary altar, until nearly all of that little band, about 
twenty in number, were occupied in the same manner. 
An aged man then rose, and took his j^osition in the centre 
of the group thus formed. He had a pious and venerable 
air, for his hoary locks proclaimed that many a winter had 
passed over his head. There those boys, the sons of farmers, 
in such a presence, with that patriarchal man as their leader, 
lifted up their voices and hearts in prayer to the Ruler of 
nations, and the God of battles, presenting a spectacle which 
no thoughtful person could regard without interest and hope- 
ful anticipations of the future. The creaking machinery of 
the boat, the dirge-like music of the wind, was loud; yer, 
above the clatter, above all the tumult, we know that the 
voices of those boys were heard in heaven, and that their 
prayers will be answered. Their Bibles, precious gifts of 
love, are sacred to them, and by their hallowed influence 
will strengthen them, and shield them from greater dangers 
than those from which cuirass and glittering mail are worn 
to protect the warrior. 

Parents and friends at home, fear not for such brave 
sons, who, relying on Heaven, are not ashamed nor afraid 
to praise God, and in his name to do battle for the rights 
and truths symbolized by the Star-spangled Banner. 



STRENGTH OF THE EULIXG PASSION. 93 



XVI. STRENGTH OF THE RULING PASSION. 

In one of the wards of a field hospital at Gettysburg, a 
young soldier of the Massachusetts Second, who had been 
shot through the lungs, lingered a fortnight after the battle. 
He was cheerful as a believer in Christ, and unoppressed 
by the fear of death. 

It was difficult for him to breathe, but he never com- 
plained. All was done for him that kindness and skill 
could suggest. A soldier-loving chaplain spent many hours 
ministering to his temporal and spiritual wants, holding up 
Jesus to the eye of his faith, and remaining with him 
during that memorable night when he yielded up his life 
for his country, and his spirit to Him who redeemed it. 
His languid eye kindled as often as he heard the name of 
Jesus, and his countenance reflected the peace with which 
he rested there. 

He expressed a wish that he " could pray again with his 
mother;" and wondered that no one came from home to 
visit him. At length, greatly to his relief, a dear brother 
arrived, whom he was longing to see. During most of the 
time, he manifested the sweetest composure and Christian 
tenderness. At other times, his mind wandered. Vivid 
recollections of the battle-field came over him, and in his 
delirium he enacted a pantomime of the deadly strife. 

The ruling idea of the soldier's life seemed to take pos- 
session of his imagination, and there was witnessed an imi- 
tation of the battle, most vivid and life-like. 

He went throucfh the whole manual of loading: and 
firing; the flashing of his dying eye and the nervous vigor 
of his trembling hands gave fearful interest to the supj^osed 
encounter with the foe. 

Being assured that the enemy was gone, he became 



94 MEMORIM.S OF THE WAR. 

calmer, and recognizing his brother and the chaplain, he 
seized their hands and showered loving kisses with his cold 
lips upon them. His j^hysical and mental j^owers now sank 
almost beyond recall. 

On being told that he was dying, he said, half-conscious, 
chanting in measured cadence, "I've — got — to die — I've 
got to die." 

This he repeated many times ; and then in cadence still 
more thrilling, "I'm — willing — to die. I'm — willing — 
to die. — Here — I — go, — I — go. I — am — going — 
here — there. I'm — prepared — better — prepared" — than 
some of his fellow-soldiers, (he meant), at the point of 
death like himself, who had been thoughtless and irrelig- 
ious. With these broken words — " better — prepared — 
better — prep " — his lij)s refused further utterance. 

The little group then bowed around the soldier's dying 
couch, and prayer in his behalf was breathed into the ear 
of the ascended Redeemer. Again we spoke to him of 
Jesus ; and at the mention of that loved name, his pallid 
features glowed with seraphic radiance, and his spirit soon 
passed away.^ 

^ From Mr. Alvord, in the Tract Journal. 



CHAPTER lY. 

CHEERFUL SUBMISSION TO HARDSHIPS AND SUFFERINGS. 



I. HEROISM IlSr THE HOSPITAL. 

NoTHii^G SO reconciles men to the endurance of privations 
and suffering as the consciousness*of a good cause and a 
conviction of the vakie of the objects for which their sac- 
rifices are made. A chaphiin in one of the Massachusetts 
regiments, Rev. Mr. Clark, of Swampscot, who was sent 
liome in charge of a great number of wounded and sick 
soldiers, stated it as a remarkable fact that in all his inter- 
course with soldiers Avounded in battle, he had not found 
one who expressed or seemed to feel the least regret for 
what he had suffered in his country's cause. 

"Oh, how brave," writes a lady who has labored for 
months in the hospitals of Kentucky, — "how brave and 
patient those men are ! In all the sufferings I have seen, I 
have never heard the first regret at the giving up of home 
and health, and life itsdf, for the country. When I have 
tried to find out, the spirit of the answer has almost inva- 
riably been, ' What I have done, I would do again, even if 
it brought me here.' " 

William Lowell Putnam, of Boston, a young ofiicer of 
social rank and education, lost his life in the battle of 
Ball's Bluff. With a presentiment, it would seem, of his 
approaching death, he wrote a letter home, in which he 
said, "You know, mother, that it is easy to die in such a 
cause ; and, after all, death is but one step onward in life." 

95 



96 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

After liis fall, with a self-denial worthy of Sir Philip 
Sidney at Zutphen, he would not even accept the service 
of a surgeon, knowing thai he was beyond human skill or 
cure, and feeling that there were others around him Avho 
might need it more than he. 

In a hospital, crowded with the wounded from the bloody 
field of Antietam, was a mutilated soldier, Charles Warren, 
from Massachusetts, one of. whose limbs required amputa- 
tion. There was little hope of saving him, but as no other 
resource was left, it was thouglit advisable to make the 
attempt. Tlie wound was such that the operation could 
not be otherwise than^jainful in the extreme. A clergy- 
man, Rev. Mr. Sloane, who had been useful to the young 
man in spiritual things, felt that he could not bear the sight 
of the inevitable suffering, and was about to leave the 
room. "But what was our surprise," he says, as they 
placed him on the table beneath the surgeon's knife, " to 
hear him singing in a clear and clieerful voice, the familiar 
words : — 

' There'll be no more sorrow there; 
In heaven above, where all is love, 
There'll be no more sorrow there.' 

"I stayed, assured that Charley was calm, trusting in 
God. The limb was taken off, and he remained in a 
drowsy state for twenty-four hours, and then gently passed 
away. Wc buried him in a quiet spot, with appropriate 
services, and, as we left the grave, felt that we coj^dd think 
of him. as in that heaven of which he so cheerfully sang." 

An agent of the Christian Commission says of others 
wounded in the same battle, "The patience and fortitude 
with which tliey endure their [)rivations and sufferings are 
truly marvellous. Owing to painful wounds and uncom- 
fortable positions, many of them spend sleepless nights, but 
they suffer in silence. You seldom hear any audible expres- 



A FUXERAL IX THE FOREST. 97 



.i 



sion from them. I found occasion several times to chide 
them for not making known their condition when they 
had an opportunity to do so." 

"Not long ago," said Mr. Gongh, at a public meeting in 
Boston, "I was in a hospital, and saw a young man, 
twenty-six years of age, pale and emaciated, with his shat- 
tered arm resting upon an oil-silk pillow, and there he had 
been many long and weary weeks, waiting for sufficient 
strength for an amputation. I knelt by his side and said, 
*Will you answer me one question?' 

" ' Yes, sir,' was his reply. 

" ' Suppose you were well, at home, in good health, and 
knew all this would come to you, if you enlisted, would 
you enlist?' 

"'Yes, sir,' he answered, in a whisper; 'I would in a min- 
ute ! What is my arm or my life compared with the safety 
of the country ? ' " 

That is patriotism, and an army composed of such men 
has claims upon us that we cannot resist. 



II. A FUNERAL IN" THE FOREST. 

A visitor to the Peninsula just after one of the battles 
there, in the month of July, 1862, writes as follows: — 

One of the poor sufferers, shot through the lungs, seemed 
near his end. He was breathing heavily, his lips were pale, 
his eyes glistening with the lustre which betokens approach- 
ing death. I stopped and spoke to him of Christ. "I can 
trust in him," he faintly replied ; and the smile upon his 
pallid countenance showed that his faith was resting upon 
the Rock of ages. Never did I feel the value of the 
Christian hope to the dying as then. I remembered that 
others, too, like him, must seal their loyalty with their 



98 



MEMORIALS OF THE AVAR. 



blood ; and, oh ! ho^y earnestly should those who love the 
soldier pray that they all may be prepared to die as calmly 
as did this youthful martyr to the cause of his country ! 

As I came in siglit of the camp, a military wagon and a 
guard of soldiers were bearing one of their comrades to 
his last resting-place. It was a mournful sight. The 
deceased was a line young man, from Nantucket, highly 
esteemed and brave, b.ut his last battle was fought. I 
turned and followed the little procession. The sun had set, 
and twilight w*as fading into night. They entered a 
narrow glen, which led into a dark forest, and, stopping at 
a small open space, silently lowered the soldier into his 
grave. No chaplain was present (the regiment had none), 
nor were mothers or sisters there to drop the tears of aftec- 
tion over the loved form. How dreary, I thought to 
myself, to be buried thus without mourners. But, as the 
grave was filled slowly and noiselessly with the soft mould, 
I could hear the hard breathing and the suppressed sob, 
though it was so dark I could not see the faces of those 
present. Ah ! I was mistaken. The bereaved ones on 
that ocean isle may be assured that mourners were there, — 
sincere, true mourners, — for the soldier has a heart of ten- 
derness. Comrades in Avar are brothers ; and, ere the grave 
was full, there was the audible expression of a brother's 
grief Then all was hushed, heads were uncovered, and 
the lieutenant-colonel slowly, solemnly, repeated the 
Lord's Prayer. I never heard it when it so impressed me 
as then. 

As I turned away, I addressed the officer in words of 
sympathy, telling him who I was, and why I was there. 
He Avas surprised at seeing me. 

" Yes," said he, in response to my remarks ; " these are 
indeed dark days for us." 

The sad tone in which he uttered this, the deepening 



WIPING THE TEARS FROM THEIR EYES. 99 

twilight, the sight of the shattered ranks around ns, pro- 
duced a feeling of sadness in me not unmixed with awe ; 
and I am sure no friend of our brother soldiers could have 
stood at the lonely grave, and not been a mourner, as I 
was there. 

" Lonely grave," should we say ? Those graves, hidden 
as they may be in the shades of the forest, or remote 
from the homes of those whose I^odies rest in them, shall 
not be forgotten, — shall not be unvisited. Memory shall 
watch over them. Fathers shall point them out to their 
sons; they shall speak forth their mute lessons of self-sacri- 
fice and patriotism in the ear of generations yet unborn. 

"How sleep the brave who sink to rest, 
By all their country's wishes blest! 
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, 
Retunis to deck their hallowed mould, 
She there shall dress a sweeter sod 
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 

By fairy hands their knell is iTing, 
By forms unseen their dirge is sung: 
There Honor comes, a pilgi'im gray, 
To bless the turf that wraps their clay, 
And Freedom shall awhile repair 
To dwell a weeping hermit there!" 



ni. WIPING THE TEARS FROM THEIR EYES. 

Few men have had means so ample for learning the 
spirit of our soldiers as the Rev. Mr. Savage, agent of the 
American Tract Society, in the Western Department. 

While I have conversed (he says) with thousands of 
our wounded from the battle-fields of Lexington and Pea 
Ridge and Fort Donelson and Shiloh and Corinth and 
luka, sometimes on the field, sometimes on transports, 



100 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

sometimes in hospitals, I have never found the first 
wounded man yet that has uttered a single word of com- 
plaint, or expressed a regret at having enlisted. It is most 
wonderful to me. I have seen them armless and legless, 
pierced through every part of the body, and upon the sur- 
geon's bench, undergoing amputation. I have seen them 
dying, and heard them speak of wife and children and 
loved ones at home; but I have never heard a word of 
complaint or regret at having enlisted in the army. 

I made a recent visit to the wounded at Vicksburg, at 
Arkansas Post. I found there cases of the deepest interest, 
one o^' which I will mention. There was a noble young 
man lying upon his cot on the hospital steamer, who, by 
the bursting of a shell directly in front of him, had had an 
arm cut off by a fragment, and another fragment had struck 
the right arm, and shattered it so that it had to be ampu- 
tated. There he lay upon his cot, with both arms gone, 
and knowing that such must be his condition for life ; but 
yet with a cheerful, happy countenance, and without a 
word of complaint. I ministered to his wants ; and, as I 
jDut the food into his mouth, which he had no hands to 
convey thither, he would say, " Well, now, how good that 
is ! How kind of you ! The Lord will bless you for it. I 
don't see why you are so kind to me;" — as if any one 
could be too kind to a man who had suffered such a loss in 
defence of his country ! 

When I spoke to him of his religious feelings, he said, 
"When I had my arm shattered, I was no professed Chris- 
tian; but as I lay upon that battle-field at Hurdman's Post 
I felt, as I never felt before, the importance of immediate- 
ly making preparations for another world ; and I cried 
mightily to God that he would have mercy upon me, and I 
believe Jesus heard my prayer, and granted me forgi^-eness, 
and that I did there consecrate myself, on that battle-field, 



1 



101 

to his service." And his soul seemed to be resting peace- 
fully upon Jesus amid all his great sufferings. One thing 
touched me exceedingly. As he spoke of his feelings, the 
tears coursed down his cheeks and lay upon them. He 
had no hands with which even to wipe away the tears from 
his own cheeks. And as I took a handkerchief and ten- 
derly performed this office, that beautiful passage from the 
Book of Revelation occurred to me with a force it never 
had before : " And God shall wipe away all tears from their 
eyes." 

lY. THE soldier's FAREWELL. 

After the battle of Williamsburg, a soldier mortally 
wounded was lying on the field at night, dying. So severe 
were his sufferings that one of his comrades, who was also 
wounded, dragged himself near to him so as to be able to 
converse with him, and, if possible, speak a word of 
comfort to him. 

The dying man looked up to him and said, " It is of no 
use, William, — I must die. I had hoped when I died to 
be surrounded with the friends of life's early morning; 
but here, far from them, with the cold, damp ground for 
my bed, I must go. And now, William, if you survive the 
war, I have a message for you to carry home. I have a 
wife, two lovely children, and an aged mother. When I 
came away, my dear wife gave me this, her picture. Open 
it ; I want to look at it once more before I go, and if you 
will read this, her Inst letter to me concerning Iierself and 
the children, it will seem as though she was speaking to 
me." 

He then drew from his side-pocket a little pocket Bible. 
"This," said he, "is the last gift of my poor aged mother. 
Oh, how mother will mourn when she hears I have fallen! 

9* 



102 MEMORIAIg^OF THE WAR. 

When I was coming away, she came to the door, and trem- 
bling with emotion and grief, put this little volume in my 
hand. She could not utter a word, but I knew what she 
wanted ; and tell her, William, that I have read it con- 
stantly. And tell her, too, that through it I was led to 
pray, and, as shq already knows, found acceptance in Christ. 
Tell her it kept me from vice, and the evil influences of 
the camp; that it cheered me and consoled me, and 
brought me down to my death in 2:)eace. 

"And now, good-by, my dear absent wife and children! 
I commit you to God. Good-by, aged mother ! — good- 
by, William, — an everlasting farewell to long marches, 
lonely rounds as sentinel, hardships, dangers of the field, 
and bloody battles. I am going to the home of which I 
read yesterday, — where 'the former things are passed away' 
— to die no more. 

And he closed his eyes, and, stepping into the chariot of 
love, he ascended the skies ; and, amidst the acclamations 
of the shining hosts on the other shore, he reached his 
home. 

V. TRUE TO THE FLAG. 

The sea-fight between the rebel, iron-plated Virginia, for- 
merly the Merrimac, and the Cumberland and Congress, 
aided at the last and critical moment by the Monitor, took 
place in Hampton Roads, the eighth and ninth of March, 
1862. The wooden vessels were no match for the iron-clad. 
The Cumberland was sunk, and went down, leaving nothing 
visible but her pennant still flying from the topmast above 
the waves. The Merrimac then turned to , the Congress, 
and a contest between them, almost hopeless from the 
outset, was kept up for nearly an hour. The steamer raked 
the doomed vessel fore and aft with her broadsides, swept 



TRUE TO THE FLAG. 103 

away nearly all the gunners, with a shot killed her com- 
mander, Lieutenant Joseph Smith, set her repeatedly on 
fire, and then, having driven her aground, compelled her to 
hoist the white flag and surrender. But the Monitor, which 
came up so suddenly on the morning of the second day, 
turned the scales of victory, drove back and. disabled the 
Merrimac, and saved to us Fortress Monroe and our fleet 
in those waters. 

The father of the brave commander of the Congress, 
who lost his life on that fatal Saturday, is Commodore 
Joseph Smith, of Washington. It appears that the elder 
Smith had exerted himself specially, to finish the work on ^ 
the Monitor, and hasten her departure to the scene of 
action. The son, too, had written repeatedly to the naval 
authorities at Washington, expressing his fears for the con- 
sequences of an attack from the Merrimac, and urging 
plans for guarding against it. The father knew the spirit 
of his son, and that the only issue of a battle for him was 
death or victory. When he saw, therefore, by the first 
despatch from Fortress Monroe that the Congress had 
raised the white flag, he only remarked quietly, " Joe is 
dead ! " No Roman father ever paid a nobler or more em- 
phatic tribute of confidence to a gallant son than is con- 
tained in the words so uttered, nor ever gave that son to 
his country with more cheerful and entire devotion. The 
sad assurance was well founded. The flag was not struck 
until his son had fallen.^ 

1 This incident is from the Boston Daily Advertiser. 



104 MEMORIAI^OF THE WAE. 

Yi. "is that mother?" 

Among the many brave, uncomplaining fellows who were 
brought up to the hospital from the battle of Fredericks- 
burg was a bright-eyed, intelligent youth, sixteen years 
old, who belonged to a Northern' regiment. lie appeared 
more affectionate and tender, more refined and thoughtful, 
than many of his comrades, and attracted a good deal of 
attention from the attendants and visitors. Manifestly the 
pet of some household which he had left, i)erhaps, in spite 
of entreaty and tears, he expressed an anxious longing for 
the arrival of his mother, who was expected, having been 
informed that he was mortally wounded, and failing fast. 
Ere she arrived, however, he died. 

But before the end, almost his last act of consciousness 
was the thought that she had really come ; for, as a lady 
sat by his pillow and wiped the death-sweat from his brow, 
just as his sight was failing, he rallied a little, like an expir- 
ing taper in its socket, looked up longingly and joyfully, 
and in tones that drew tears from every eye, whispered 
audibly, "Is that mother?" Then, drawing her toward 
him with all his feeble power, he nestled his head in her 
arms, like a sleeping infant, and thus died, with the sweet 
word "mother" on bis quivering lips. 



YII. LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMSIER. 

The narrntive which, follows is so touching, and displays 
60 many of the best feelings of the human heart, that it 
would be wrong to leave it out of these pages. It is from 
the pen of a correspondent of the " Chicago Tribune." It 
has been extensively copied, and may be familiar to some 
of our readers : — 



LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER. 105 

A few days before our regiment received orders to join 
General Lyon, on his march to Wilson's Creek, the drum- 
mer of our company was taken sick and conveyed to the 
hospital, and on the evening preceding the day that we 
were to march, a negro Avas arrested within the lines of 
the camp, and brought before our captain, who asked him 
what business he had within the lines. He replied, "I 
know a drummer that would like to enlist in your company, 
and I have come to tell you of it." He was immediately 
requested to inform the drummer that if he would enlist 
for our short term of service, he would be allowed extra 
pay ; and to do this, he-must be upon the ground early in 
the morning. The negro was then passed beyond the 
guard. 

On the following morning, there appeared before the 
captain's quarters, during the beating of the reveille, a 
good-looking, middle-aged woman, dressed in deep mourn- 
ing, leading by the hand a sharp, sprightly-looking boy, 
apparently about twelve or thirteen years old. Her story 
was soon told. She was from East Tennessee, where her 
husband had been killed by the rebels, and all their 
property destroyed. She had come to St. Louis in search 
of her sister, but not finding her, and being destitute of 
money, she thought if she could procure a situation for her 
boy as a drummer, for the short time that we had to remain 
in the service, she could find employment for herself, and 
perhaps find her sister by the time we were discharged. 

During the rehearsal of her story, the little fellow kept 
his eyes intently fixed upon the countenance of the cap- 
tain, who was about to express a determination not to take 
so small a boy, when he spoke out, saying, " Don't be afraid, 
captain ; I can drum." This was spoken with so much con- 
fidence that the captain immediately observed, with a 
smile, " Well, well, sergeant, bring the drum, and order 



106 MEMOEIA^ OF THE WAR. 

our fifer to come forward." In a few minutes the drum 
was produced, and our fifer made his appearance, — a tall 
round-shouldered, good-natured fellow from the Dubuque 
mines, who stood, when erect, something over six feet in 
heiglit. 

Upon being introduced to his new comrade, he stooped 
downward, Avith his hands resting upon his knees that were 
thrown forward into an acute angle, and after peering into 
the little fellow's face a moment, he observed, "My little 
man, can you drum ? " 

" Yes, sir," he replied, " I drummed for Captain Hill, in 
Tennessee." 

Our fifer immediately commenced straightening himself 
upward until all the angles in his person had disappeared, 
when he placed his fife to his mouth, and played the 
" Flowers of Edinburgh," one of the most difficult tunes to 
follow with the drum that could have been selected, but 
nobly did the little fellow follow him, showing him to be a 
master of the drum. When the music ceased our captain 
turned to the mother and observed, "Madam, I will take 
your boy. What is his name?" 

"Edward Lee," she replied; then, placing her hand upon 
the captain's arm, she continued, "captain, if he is not 
killed " — here her maternal feelings overcame her utter- 
ance, and she bent down over her boy, and kissed him 
upon the forehead. As she arose, she observed, " Captain, 
you will bring him back with you, won't you ? " 

" Yes, yes," he replied ; " we will be certain to bring him 
back with us. We shall be discharged in six weeks." 

In an hour after, our company led the Iowa F4rst out of 
camp, our drum and fife playing " The girl I left behind 
me." Eddie, as we called him, soon became a great favo- 
rite with all the men in the company. When any of the 
boys had returned from a horticultural excursion, Eddie's 



LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER. 107 

share of the peaches and melons was first apportioned 
ont. During our heavy and fatiguing march from Rolla 
to Springfield, it was often amusing to see our long-legged 
fifer wading through the mud with our little drummer 
mounted upon his back, and always in that position when 
fording streams. 

The night after the fight at Wilson's Creek, where Lyon 
fell, I was detailed for guard duty. The hours passed 
slowly away, when at length the morning light began to 
streak along the eastern sky, making surrounding objects 
more plainly visible. Presently I heard a drum beat up 
the morning call. At first, I thought it came from the 
camp of the enemy across the creek ; but, as I listened, I 
found that it came up from the deep ravine; for a few 
minutes it was silent, and then, as it became more light, I 
heard it again. I listened ; the sound of the drum w?,s 
familiar to me ; I knew that it was 

Our diaTmmer-boy from Tennessee, 
Beating for help &e reveille. 

I was about to desert my post to go to his assistance, 
when I discovered the officer of the guard approaching 
with two men. We all listened to the sound, and were 
satisfied that it was Eddie's drum. I asked permission to 
go to his assistance. The officer hesitated, saying that the 
orders were to march in twenty minutes. I promised to 
be back in that time, when he consented. I immediately 
started down the hill through the thick undergrowth, and 
upon' reaching the valley I followed the sound of the drum, 
and soon found him seated upon the ground, his back lean- 
ing against the trunk of a fallen tree, while his drum hung 
upon a bush in front of him, reaching nearly to the ground. 
As soon as he discovered me, he dropped his drumsticks 
and exclaimed, " Oh, corporal, I am so glad to see you ! 



108 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

Give me a drink of water," reaching out his hand for my 
canteen, which was empty. 

I immediately turned to bring him some Avater from the 
brook that I could hear rippling through the bushes near 
by, when thinking I was about to leave him, he commenced 
crying, saying, " Don't leave me, corporal ; I can't walk." 
I was soon back with the water, when I discovered that 
both of his feet had been shot away by a cannon-ball. 
After satisfying his thirst, he looked up into my face and 
said, " You don't think I will die, corporal, do you ? This 
man said I would not; he said the surgeon could cure 
my feet." . 

I now discovered a man lying in the grass near him 
dead. By his dress, I recognized him as belonging to the 
enemy. It appeared that he had been shot through the 
bowels, and had fallen near where Eddie lay. Knowing 
that he himself could not live, 'and seeing the condition of 
the boy, he crawled to him, took off his buckskin suspend- 
ers, and corded the little fellow's legs below the knee, and 
then lay down and died. While the child was telling 
me these particulars, I heard the tramp of cavalry coming 
down the ravine, and in a moment a scout of the enemy 
was upon us, and I was taken a prisoner. I requested the 
officer to take Eddie up in front of him ; he did so, carrying 
him with great tenderness and care. When we^ reached 
the camp of the enemy, the little fellow was dead. 



VIII. WHAT A PHYSICIAN SAW. 

A physician, in the naval service on our Western waters, 
describes in a familiar letter some of his experience as a 
witness of the sad effects of war. 

You remember (he says to his correspondent) the sad 



WHAT A PHYSICIAN SAW. 109 

loss of the " Cincinnati," the latter part of May. We 
were in full sight of Vicksburg at the time, and could dis- 
tinctly see the firing, but could not see the ship. After a 
while there was silence, and intense anxiety. This might 
have been eleven o'clock. About twelve o'clock, word was 
brought that " The Cincinnati is sunk." Then our hearts 
sank. In the afternoon, the wounded were brought in, I 
will give you the story of one of them. He was a hand- 
some, finely-developed young man of twenty-three or 
twenty-five years. His wound was of the left leg, shot off 
just above the knee, but left hanging by a few shreds of 
mus cle 

In this condition he swam ashore, refusing to be assisted. 
He was brought aboard pale, haggard, bloodless. Not a 
murmur, not a groan was heard, but such a weary, weary 
aspect! Presently he said, "Can you put me to sleep? I 
am in great pain." 

" Yes, yes ; we will put you to sleep right away." 

His eyes were large, clear, blue eyes, full of an unutter- 
able soul. They continued their wonderful silent elo- 
quence, — noiseless, alternate light and shade, — till the 
chloroform closed them. 

Another patient was brought in, also severely wounded, 
making the same request, " Can you put me to sleep ? " 
So I left the first, before the amputation was begun, to give 
relief to the second. After a little while I had him very 
quiet, for he was of a different temperament fi-om the first, 
and more clamorous. Then I said to the sister, "Watch 
him for a few moments. If he stops breathing, call me ; I 
must see the other man." I went. The operation was 
completed. Soon the dressings were applied, and we laid 
him on a bed. After the other amputation I went to him 
again. He was awake, and again in pain. 

" I want to go to sleep ; will you put me to sleep?" 

10 



110 MEMOKI.^ OF THE "WAR. 

Oh, poor pale face ! I see it now. Even the tongue 
was white. I almost wept. Could I hope ? But I could 
not hesitate what to do. That meek inquiry, " Will you 
put me to sleep ? " — brave, yet bordering on the j^laintive, 
having the slightest touch of j^iteousness, yet so quiet 
and so grand ! He was teaching me the sublimity of un- 
murmuring suffering. 

"-Yes, yes ; we will put you to sleep." 

His eyes opened and closed so wearily, so wearily! 
They were wonderful eyes, clear as two perfect stars, and 
over them was the fine, smooth brow and wavy hair, abun- 
dant and beautiful. 

"Will you give me some water?" 

He drank and lay still again. Presently a little stimu- 
lant was brought in. He swallowed it indifferently. 

" Will that help me sleep ? " 

"Yes; you will sleep now." • 

Previously a small anodyne powder had been given him. 
Then he was quiet for a little while. 

I had a hope for him, but with it an awful sense that it 
rested on no foundation. Very soon, he grew restless, — a 
restlessness hard for words. to picture, — peculiar, and such 
as I, poor yearling doctor, had already learned to dread. 
The restlessness became extreme. I left him for a while ; 
then I returned. Will he be asleep ? 

He is quiet now, and oh! beautiful eyes, — beautiful no 
longer. It was the soul that gave them beauty. Then 
the soul must be very beautiful ! Everything is calm now. 
Is he asleep ? Yes, thank God, asleep now, and an angel 
will waken him one day. 



THE HOSPITAL TEEE NEAR FAIR OAKS. Ill 



IX. THE HOSPITAL TREE NEAR FAIR OAKS. 

There is a large tree near the battle-ground of Fair 
Oaks,^ the top of which was used as an observatory during 
the fight, Avhich stands as a memento of untold, and per- 
haps never to be told, suiFering and sorrow. Many of the 
wounded and dying w^ere laid beneath the branches of this 
tree after the battle, in order to receive surgical help, or 
to breathe their last there more quietly. What heart- 
rending scenes, (wrote a Massachusetts chaplain,) did I wit- 
ness in that place, so full of saddened memories to me and 
to others. Brave, uncomplaining men were brought thither 
out of the woodland, the crimson tide of whose life was 
ebbing away in the arms of those who carried them. 
Almost all who died, died like heroes, with scarcely a 
groan. Those wounded, but not mortall}^, — how nobly 
they bore the necessary probings, and needed amputations! 

Two instances of this heroic fortitude deserve to be spe- 
cially mentioned. One of them is that of William C. Bentley, 
of the Second Rhode Island Regiment, both of whose legs 
were broken by a bomb-shell, and whose wrist and breast 
were mangled, and who yet was as calm as though he suf- 
fered no pain. He refused any opiate or stimulant that 
might dim his consciousness. He asked only that we 
should pray for him, that he might be patient and submis- 
sive, and dictated a letter to be sent to his mother. Then, 
and not till then, opiates were given to him, and he fell 
gently asleep, and for the last time. 

The other case was that of Francis Sweetser, of Com- 
pany E, of the Sixteenth Massachusetts Regiment, who 
witnessed in death, as he had uniformly done in life, a 
good confession of Christ. 

1 One of the Peniusular battles under McClellan, June 21, 18G2, 



112 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

" Thank God," he saitl, " that I am permitted to die for 
my country. Thank God more yet that I am prepared to 
go;" — and then, after a moment's tliouglit, he modestly 
added, "at least, I hope I am." 

When he died, he was in the a(;t of prayer, and in that 
position his limbs grew rigid, and so remained after the 
spirit had left his body. We shall miss him at the regi- 
ment meetings for prayer, and at our Sabbath worship. 
We shall miss him at the temperance meetings, — nay, 
everywhere, and always, when any good is to be done for 
the soldiers, among whom he held an honored, though 
humble, place. 

X. THE WOUNDED AT FORT WAGNER. 

This fortress is on Morris Island, in the harbor of 
Charleston, S. C. It was stormed by our forces on the 
eighteenth of July last, in two successive attacks, ineliec- 
tual, but among the fiercest struggles of the Avar. In the 
first charge, the advance was led by the Fifty-fourth 
Massachusetts, composed, with the exception of the ofiicers, 
of colored men, one-third of whom were originally slaves, 
and the others recruits from the Free States. They were 
under the command of Colonel Robert G. Shaw, who 
had sought this position to show his fi^ith in the loyalty 
and courage of a despised race, and his regard for the 
rights of a common brotherhood. His confidence was not 
misplaced. After the fire of the rebels had begun to thin 
their ranks, the men still pressed forward through a storm 
of shot and shell, with shouts as they advanced. At the 
distance of a hundred yards from the fort, the battalion 
waverod for a moment. But the colonel, springing to the 
front, and waving his sword, shouted, " Forward, once 
more ! "' and then, with another cheer and shout, they rushed 



THE WOUNDED AT FORT WAGNER. 113 

through the ditch, gained the parapet, and fought hand to 
hand with the enemy. Colonel Shaw was among the first 
to scale the walls. He was in the act of directing and 
cheering his men, when he was shot dead, and fell into the 
fort. His body was found with twenty of his soldiers 
lying dead around him, two of them on his own body. 
The regiment went into action with six hundred and fifty 
men, and came out with a loss of two hundred and eighty, 
— more than a third of the whole number. Eight only, of 
the twenty-three ofiicers, were uninjured. 

Amid all this carnage and confusion, the color-bearer, 
though he was severely wounded, and obliged to make his 
escape by creeping on his knees, held his staff erect, and 
brought off the flag without allowing its folds to touch tlie 
ground. 

But the saddest scene is yet to be related. The Sunday 
which followed was a day of distress and mourning in 
Beaufort. The arrival of the "Cosmopolitan," with the 
wounded from Morris Island, with intelligence that our 
brave troops had been repulsed there, cast a gloom over 
the community, such as had not been felt since the affair at 
Pocataligo, and the death of the noble Mitchell. 

As the vessel neared the wharf, witli its freight of suffer- 
ing, a silent, mournful concourse gathered around the land- 
ing, eager to lend a helping hand in removing the wounded 
to the hospital. As those who were able to walk filed off 
the boat, and wended their slow way through the crowd, 
the scene was truly pathetic. The emotional nature of the 
negi'o broke forth in sobs and moans of compassion, while 
the sympathy and commiseration of the white man Avas 
shown only in the pale face and trembling lips. The 
wounded of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts came off from 
the boat first; and, as these sad evidences of the bravery and 
patriotism of the colored man passed through the lines of 

10* 



114 MEMORIi^ OF THE AVAR. 

spectators, every heart was melted with tenderness and pity 
We will voucli for it, says an eye-witness, that no word of 
scorn or contempt for negro soldiers will ever be heard 
from any who beheld that spectacle. In that moment, our 
volunteers saw suffering comrades in the black men, and 
the tender hand and strong shoulder were extended as 
readily to them as to their more favored compatriots. All 
day and far into the night did the sad procession pass 
toward the hospital, and every man and woman at the post 
who could do anything to alleviate the sufferings o^ our 
brave fellows was soon busily at work. 

Tiie cheerful resignation with which the soldiers, white 
and black, bore the terrible mutilations, and the sufferings 
inevitabl-e in moving them, was worthy of all praise. As 
we looked upon some youthful form, lying upon a stretcher, 
with a cloth covering a torn and shattered limb, and watched 
the struggle to bear up with fortitude and patience, we 
bowed in spirit to a hero as great as any whose fame has 
employed the pen of the historian, or the muse of the poet. 

On the second and third days after the fight, I passed, 
says a correspondent, through nearly all the wards of the 
hospital. The wounds of many of them had not been 
dressed, and were very painful. Some of them lay there 
with mangled legs or arms, or both; others, with ampu- 
tated limbs. 

"Well, boys," I said to them, "is not this something you 
did not count upon ? " 

" Oh, no, no," was the answer. " We expected to take 
what might come. Thank God, we had made up our 
minds to live or die." 

"But if out of it, and at home once more, how many 
would enlist again." 

With brightened eyes, and, in some instances, with 
uplifted stumps of arms or hands, they cried out, " Oh, yes, 



THE AFRICx^X STAXDAED-BEARER. 115 

yes ! We will never give up till the last brother breaks 
his chains. If all our people may get their freedom, we 
are ready to die." 

No one can pass among these sufferers, so patient, so 
cheerful, and listen to the expressions of their conviction 
that they are soldiers for Jesus, to help on his war of free- 
dom for the oppressed,^ without being inspired with the 
deepest abhorrence of slavery, and praying anew and with 
greater earnestness that God would hasten the day of its 
overthrow. 

The body of Colonel Shaw was denied the rites of 
sepulture. It was thrown into a pit and buried beneath 
heaps of his faithful soldiers. This was meant as an insult 
and ignominy, but shall be counted an honor, and shall 
give added potency to the voice which speaks from his 
grave. 

" They never fail who die 
In a great cause ; the block may soak then- gore ; 
Their heads may sodden in the sun ; their limbs 
Be strung to the city gates and castle walls, 
♦ But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years 

Elapse and others share as dark a doom, 
They but augment the deep and living thoughts 
Which overpower all others, and conduct 
The world at last to freedom." 



XI. THE AFRICAN STANDARD-BEARER. 

The conduct of this hero, to whom allusion has been 
made, deserves a more distinct notice. The soldier who 
carried the colors of the Fifty-fourth, having been disabled, 
William H. Carney, a sergeant of Company G, caught them 

1 So far as they have this spirit, the motto on one of their banners — In hoc 
signo vinces, By this sign (that of the cross), thou shalt conquer — was well 
chosen. 



116 MEMOi^^.S OF THE WAR. 

up, rushed forward, and was the first man to plant the 
"Stars and Stripes" on Fort Wagner. Tlie ranks, as he 
himself said afterwards, were full as they ascended the wall, 
but "melted away" before the enemy's fire "ahnost in- 
stantly." He was wounded in the head and thigh, but 
fell only upon his knees. Having raised the flag on the para- 
pet, he lay down on the outer slope, in order to be 
sheltered as much as possible. There he remained for 
more than half an hour, till the second brigade arrived and 
renewed the conflict. During all this time, he kept the 
colors flying ; and when the retreat for such as were left 
became necessary, he followed on his knees, pressing his 
wound with one hand, and holding up the emblem of 
liberty with the other. When he entered the hospital, 
nearly exhausted from loss of blood, his companions, both 
black and white, rose from the straw on which they were 
lying and cheered him and the colors till they could cheer 
no longer. 

" Boys," he replied, " I have but done my duty. The 
old flag never touched the ground." ^ 

This gallant soldier was born in Norfolk, Virginia, *u 
1840. He belonged to a family, originally slaves, who 
became free by the conditions of their master's will, at the 
time of his decease. In his early years, he received by 
stealth^ some knowledo-e of the rudiments of learninof from 
a minister in that city. The father and mother, with their 
children wandered from place to place till they found a 
home at length in New Bedford, Mass. 

We have reason to ascribe AVilliam's bravery and forti- 
tude, his patriotism and zeal for liberty, to a Christian 
source. In a letter written by himself, he states that he 

1 An oflQcial letter states these particulars. 

2 Readers of tlio next generation may need to be informed that it was a penal 
offence in our Southern States, at this period, to teach slaves to read. 



A SINGULAR DEATH. 117 

embraced the gospel in his fifteenth year, before he left 
Norfolk; that after he removed to New Bedford, he became 
a member of the church under the care of Rev. Mr. 
Jackson, now chaplain of the Fifty-fourth, and that he was 
hoping to prepare himself for the ministry, until the way 
was opened for his striking a blow with his own arm for 
the government and for liberty. "When the country" (to 
quote his own words) "called for all persons, I felt I could 
best serve my God by serving my country and my 
oppressed brothers. The sequel was, I enlisted for the 



XII. A SINGULAR DEATH. 

I was conversing not long since with a returned volun- 
teer. 

"I was in the hospital," said he, "for a long time, aa 
attendant on the wounded, and assisted in taking off limbs 
and dressing all sorts of wounds ; but the hardest thing I 
ever did was to take my thumb off a man's leg." 

-« Ah ! " said I ; " how was that ? " He then related the 
following case : — 

A young man had been placed under our care who had 
a severe wound in the thigh. The ball passed completely 
through, and amputation was necessary. The limb was 
cut up close to the body, the arteries taken up, and he 
seemed to be doing well. Subsequently, one of the small 
arteries sloughed off. An incision was made, and it was 
again taken up. 

"It is well it was not the main artery," said the surgeon, 
as he performed the operation. " He might have bled to 
death before it could have been taken up." 

But the patient Charley, as we always spoke of him, got 
on finely for a time, and was a favorite with us all. 



118 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

I was passing through the ward one night, about mid- 
night, wlien suddenly, as I was passing Charley's bed, he 
spoke to me : — 

" H , my leg is bleeding again." 

I threw back the bedclothes, and the blood spirted in 
the air. Tlie main artery had sloughed oif. 

Fortunately, I knew just what to do ; and in an instant I 
had pressed my thumb on the place and stopped the 
bleeding. It was so close to the body that there was 
barely room for my thumb, but I succeeded in keeping it 
there, and arousing one of the convalescents, sent him for 
the surgeon, who came in on a run. 

" I am so thankful, ," said he, as he saw me, " that 

you were up and knew what to do, for otherwise he must 
have bled to death before I could have got here." 

But on examination of the case, he looked exceedingly 
serious, and sent for other surgeons. All came who were 
within reach, and a consultation was held over the poor 
fellow. One conclusion was reached by all. There was 
no place to work save the spot where my thumb was 
placed ; they could not work under my thumb, and, if I 
moved it, he would bleed to death before the artery could 
be taken up. There was no way to save his life. 

Poor Charley ! He was very calm when they told him, 
and he requested that his brother, who was in the same 
hospital, might be called up. He came and sat down by 
the bedside, and for three hours I stood, and by the press- 
ure of my thumb kept up the life of Charley, while the 
brothers had their last conversation on earth. It was a 
strange place for me to be in, to feel that I held the life of 
a fellow-mortal in my hands, as it were, and stranger yet, 
to feel that an act of mine must cause that life to depart. 
Loving the poor fellow as I did, it was a hard thought; 
but there was no alternative. The last words were spoken. 



THE LAST DUTY TO HIS COUNTRY. 119 

Charley had arranged all his business affiiirs, and sent ten- 
der messages to absent ones, who little dreamed how near 
their loved one stood to the grave. The tears filled my 
eyes more than once as I listened to those parting words. 
I All were sad, and he turned to me : — 

I "Now H , I guess you had better take off your 

- thumb." 

" Oh, Charley! how can I?" said I. 
"But it must be done, you know," he replied, cheer- 
fully. "I thank you very much for your kindness, and 
now, good-by." 

He turned away his head, I raised my thumb, once more 
. the life-current gushed forth, and in three minutes poor 
jOharley was dead. 

XIII. THE LAST DUTY TO HIS COUNTRY. 

Death has enough that is sorrowful and gloomy even 
when it enters the quiet and comfortable home, where 
loving friends and kindred surround the bedside. But to 
die away from those we love, among strangers, and in cir- 
cumstances unattended by so many outward alleviations, — 
and yet to die peacefully, joyfully, requires a strong faith, 
and shows a resignation to the will of God which is surely 
one of the fruits of the Spirit. Many a brave man, since 
the war began, has met this last enemy of the Christian 
with as much heroism as he met the enemy of his country 
in battle. 

One of the delegates of the Christian Commission 
reports an instance of this nature which should be recorded 
among the examples of the power of the gospel in the 
last dread hour. 

Among those wounded at Fredericksburg, on Saturday, 
May third, who were early brought across the river from 



120 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

the field of earnnge, covered with blood, was a yonng man 
Irom Newbury }3ort, Mass. He had been among the most 
faithful in attend anc^e at our weekly prayer-meeting, I 
saw at once that his wound was mortal. Ilis injury was 
such that he could not see. I grasped liim by the hand 
and spoke to him. He knew me by my voice. 

"Oh!" said he, "I am mortally wounded, and soon must 
die." 

"Do you feel willing to die?" I asked. 

"Yes; I have done the last duty for my God and ray 
country. Life is dear, but I know tliat all is right. I have 
a dear mother and sister at home, whom I love. I would 
like to die with them in the quiet of home; but I cannot, 
and am willing to die here." 

It must be enough, one would think, to scatter the 
doubts of the most unbelieving, to stand at the side of 
such a dying soldier. To see how calmly, with wdiat assur- 
ance of hope, the young Christian breathes out liis life in 
the arms of the Saviour, shows at once the power of the 
consolations which support him, and the reality of the faith 
from which they spring. 



CHAPTER y. 



EFFORTS FOR THE SPIRITUAL WELFARE OF THE SOLDIERS. 



I. PEAYER IN A CHURCHTAED. 

Scattered over the battle-fields and camping-grounds 
of the present war, are consecrated spots, Bethels, every 
one of them sacred to some soul who there held sweet com- 
munion with God. A laborer in the work of the Christian 
Commission gives the following account of a prayer-meet- 
ing which was organized and held for a time, in the church- 
yard of a village, near Fredericksburg, in Virginia: — 

Prayer-meetings (he says) had been held previously 
every evening, and many souls, I trust, converted to God. 
In the Seventh Michigan, especially, a glorious work 
commenced erelong, and I trust that it has been carried 
on by the Holy Sj)irit of God, and that eternity will reveal 
glorious results which God wrought for the souls of these 
earnest, truth-seeking men. Before leaving them, I assisted 
in organizing a prayer-meeting of their own. Nine or ten, 
sometimes more, faithful young men, retired every /evening 
after roll-call to their little retreat, and there they prayed 
together, and talked together to strengthen each other in 
faith and love. That retreat was the village churchyard. 
Around a broad, flat, old-fashioned tombstone, as an altar, 
this faithful little band met, and God met with them and 
blessed them. 

I have often thought what a solemn spot that is which 
has been the scene of so much devotion, and what solemn 
moments those were which those disciples spent in prayer, 

11 121 



122 MEMOKIAJg^ OF THE WAE. 

in that habitation of the dead. Around them lay the lifeless 
remains of those who, in j^ears gone by, had lived and 
moved and thought and filled their places among men. 
Near by was a long row of graves which contained the 
remains of Union soldiers who had fallen at the first battle 
of Fredericksburg. Not long since they, too, were living 
men, soldiers, like these worshippers. Perhaps some of 
tliem were praying soldiers, perhaps some of them died 
without having learned how to pray. 

These faithful. Christian young men did not forget their 
prayer-meeting when the fortunes of war called them away 
from this chosen spot. They still met as often as the even- 
ing came. On one of the evenings during the battle of 
Gettysburg, when the hour arrived for the meeting, some 
of the wonted attendants were present, but it was found 
that some of the most devoted had that day fallen as sacri- 
fices on the altar of their country. They had fallen, but 
they fell with their armor on, bright and polished. They' 
died exemplifying the powder of that faith which had sus- 
tained and supported them during the weeks they had 
lived as Christians. 



II. REGIMENTAL CHURCHES. 

A gratifying feature which religious effort in belialf of 
the soldiers assumed during the progress of the war, was 
the formation, in some of the regiments, of temporary 
churches. These churches (wrote one of the promoters 
of this measure) are designed to embrace those who are 
already professors of religion, as well as new converts. In 
these they find a spiritual home, in which they can receive 
the benefits of church care and fellowship. As in the 
camp, the tent is the soldier's substitute for his ordinary 



REGIMENTAL CHURCHES. 123 



dwelling, so tliis church is the soul's tabernacle, in the 
absence of his regular and permanent sanctuary. 

A church in the camp ! What a novelty ! With it is 
connected the prayer-meeting, the Bible-class, the singing 
of God's praise, the preaching of the Word, the rite of 
baptism, the communion of the saints, and all tliose sacred 
services which bless communities at home. We hail the 
niovement as a happy device of Christian enterprise, 
faithful, efficient chaplains are needed ; but, in the hands 
of such men, an institution like this must be a great bless- 
ing to those whom it is designed to benefit. 

A minister of the gospel sits beside me (writes Mr. 
Alvord, in one of his letters), who has just related to me a 
scene that took place last Sunday under his own eye. 

A young man who had been converted in their meetings 
was received to the camp church. The chaplain had been 
preaching to at least eight hundred of the regiment, and,^ at 
the close of the service, this young man was asked to give 
some account of his experience and hopes. He rose to his 
feet, and was stepping forward to a place where he could 
be heard. At that moment, most unexpectedly, a group 
of soldiers joined him, and all pressed forward together to 
the stand. They were Christian men, and they wished in 
this way to uphold their comrade, and show themselves on 
the side of Christ. The candidate was then admitted into 
the church in due form, while the regiment looked on, and 
showed by their earnest attention how deeply the scene 
had interested them. 

' "The major," said the chaphiin, "though he did not 
profess to be a pious man, grasped me by the arm, after 
the service, saying with deep feeling, 'Never did I witness 
so impressive a scene as that ! ' " 

The chaplain of the Sixth Pennsylvania Regiment refers 
to a similar organization, under date of October 23d, 1861. 



124 MEMORlA^ OF THE WAR. 

Yesterday (he writes) was the happiest Sabbath I have 
known in camp. We have just established a regimental 
church, which we call the Army-Union Christian Associa- 
tion. I enclose a copy of our creed and articles. At 
eleven o'clock, a. m., the regiment was assembled for 
public worship. In the presence of all, twenty-five of the 
men stepped out of the ranks to the front, and made 
public profession of their faith in Christ. To-day, several 
others have come to me and expressed their wish to join us 
on the next occasion. Two were baptized, on the same day, 
and thus, for the first time, declared themselves publicly 
on the Lord's side. The others are members of churches 
at home. This association does not make it necessary for 
them to separate from those churches.' It stands only in 
the place of the church at home, during their service in 
the army. 

We have deeply interesting meetings for prayer every 
evening, except Wednesday, when some of us come 
together for practice in singing. To-night, several new 
voices were heard in prayer, for the first time since the 
individuals left home. One poor sinner was melted to 
tears, and sobbed out a prayer to Jesus to wash away his 
sins and make him a new creature. I believe that God is 
pouring out a blessing upon us, and trust he may bring 
many of this regiment to himself 



III. THE LAST SOUL-CHEERING WORD. 

I went into another ward (writes one of the tract- 
distributors), where I was told a volunteer from one of the 
Maine regiments was lying dangerously ill from a gunshot 
wound in the thigh. There the poor sufferer lay, pale, ema- 
ciated, fast sinking. It needed but one look to see that he 



ALL ONE IN CHRIST JESUS. 125 

could not long survive. I inquired his name. "Wm. 

J ," was the only answer that he had strength to make 

audible. I had several of the little books in my hand which 
have been prepared for the soldiers, and I placed these 
by his pillow. He reached out his feeble hand, and looking 
them over picked out one with the title "Welcome to 
Jesus," printed in gold on a purple cover, and whispered 
to me to place that on the window-sill before him, upright, 
so that he could see those words without turning his head. 
I did so. 

The surgeon came to dress his wounds. The patient, 
evidently near his end, and almost without breath for 
speaking, held out his hand to thank me, and I left him. 
That night he died. The last comforting message he had 
was, as I have reason to believe, the soul-cheering one, 
" Welcome to Jesus." But what a message was that ! 
Thanks, many thanks, to the liberal people who sustain me 
and my associates in furnishing such means for comforting 
the departing soul in such an hour. 



IV. ALL ONE IN CHRIST JESUS. 

We are indebted to Professor M. L. Stoever, of Gettys- 
burg College, a faithful workman in the hospitals of that 
place, for various instructive incidents, which his labors 
there have brought to his notice. We have from him the 
following fact, showing how in the estimation of the true 
Christian, the value of the soul is j^aramount to everything 
else ; how it leads him to forget the distinctions of creed, 
and to lay aside the most cherished prejudices in his desire 
to save the unconverted. 

On the Sabbath succeeding the battle (said this intelligent 
witness) my attention was directed to the destitution at the 
11* 



V2Q MEMOniAL^pF THE WAR. 

Catholic church, which was used as a hospital On enter- 
ing the building, filled with the wounded and dying, I was 
met by a Catholic woman, whom I very well knew to be a 
good woman, but a rigid Catholic. As soon as she saw 
me, she said to me, — 

"Do come and speak to this man. The surgeon says he 
will not live, and he is unconverted." 

I followed her to the place where he w^as lying, within 
the chancel and near the altar. She introduced me as a 
Protestant, and as one connected with the college, and 
then left me to minister to him the comforts of religion. 

After briefly and earnestly presenting to him the only 
way opened for his return to God, I knelt by his side and 
oflfered prayer, the first Protestant prayer, doubtless, ever 
offered in that Catholic church, and that too at the request 
of a member of the church. The man died a day or two 
after that, most peacefully, trusting in Christ, cheerfully 
acquiescing in God's will, and with the hope of eternal 
happiness beyond the grave. He was the son of a pious 
mother, and had been reared under religious influences. 
Although he had never made a profession of religion, his 
early instructions had prepared his mind to lay hold of the 
cross and to embrace the Saviour. 

In Christ Jesus all Christians are one. 



V. WOKSHIP IIS" CAMP. 

Rev. A. H. Quint, chaplain in the Second Massachusetts 
Regiment, attached at that time to the Army of the Potomac, 
thus graphically describes the meetings for preaching and 
prayer among the soldiers : — 

The Sabbath service is held at half-past four o'clock, 
p. M., under the lengthening shadows. The drum and fife 



WORSHIP IN CAMP. 127 

play "churcli call;" the companies are formed as for parade. 
Each marches to the, sound of music, to its place, tiU the 
regiment forms three sides of a square, leaving, perhaps, 
fifteen feet each side of the preacher. Just within the 
square are the field and staff officers, and the band, which 
j^lays a voluntary. At a word of command, the singers 
leave the ranks and stand near the band. In the service, 
the men stand until the time for sermon, when, at the 
word "Rest," all are seated, but still in order. The 
sermon closing, all instantly rise, uncovered, for prayer and 
benediction. These ended, "Attention ! Company A, left 
face, march!" and, to the music of the band, the men 
march to their tents. There is no lack of attention, and 
never a disrespectful look. 

Sabbath evening, at half past seven o'clock, is our prayer- 
meeting, lately established. It is held, now, on an open 
space, near the tents of our band. Each time, it has been 
a dark evening. A few candles cast a dim light. The 
flame of near or distant camp-fires shines fitfully on the 
bronzed faces of hardy men, bringing into deeper shadow 
the sombre blue of their uniform. They stand closely, — 
a hundred of them. A familiar revival hymn, perhaps 
" Behold, behold, the Lamb of God," or " We're going 
home, to die no more," attracts others, for music is a great 
charm in camp. A prayer, reading of Scripture, a short 
address from the chaplain, singing, and then all are invited 
to speak, or pray, or sing. One comes forward quietly into 
the little vacant space, and in a low voice testifies to the 
grace of God. Then another; and one prays, or singing 
breaks forth ; or one, in whose heart the springs have been 
long choked up, bears witness that the fountain is once 
more gushing, and mourns over his sins. Here and there 
are visible tears rolling down some rough cheek ; " it seems 
so like home," or "it makes us feel human," or "it reminds 
one of a praying father." 



128 MEMORIAL^ or THE WAR. 

The hour passes. Th-ed? No; though no cusliioned 
seats have rested them, — they have all been standing the 
whole period. But they have rested on the grace of God ; 
and they look forward with yearning hearts • to the 
Wednesday evening prayer-meeting. Wednesday evening 
I chose for its beloved associations with the "Young 
People's Meeting " at home. 

VI. A REGIMENTAL REVIVAL. 

The following narrative was written by the Rev. Dr. 
Marks, chaplain of the Sixty-third Pennsylvania Volun- 
teers. 

It must ever be a source of relief and hope to thousands 
of Christian parents, whose sons have gone into the army 
without any avowed interest in religion, and have been 
slain in battle, or have died in hospitals, that their lost 
ones had an opportunity to witness such scenes as this 
narrative describes; and that the symbol of the divine 
j^resence rested so visibly here and there on the tents in 
which they sojourned. We need not put away from us the 
consolation of thinking that many of those who have been 
thus cut ofl*may have been reached by the silent operation 
of such influences, and fitted for their end, though they 
may not have left the recorded proof of their acceptance 
of the terms of mercy. 

The Sixty-third Regiment of Pennsylvania Volunteers 
entered the service of the government on the 25th of 
August, 1861, at Pittsburg. We reached Washington 
about the first of September, and very soon entered 
General Ileintzelraan's division, and were stationed on the 
Mt. Vernon road, about three miles from Alexandria. 

The first Sabbath after the chaplain arrived in camp, he 
noticed unusual solemnity, and on that day gave away 



A REGIMENTAL REVIVAL. 129 

more than three hundred Testaments to those who called 
at his tent. On the next Sabbath, he gave away, in the 
same manner, more than three hundred of your hymn- 
books; and, from that time, has distributed every week 
from five hundred to a thousand religious papers, small 
books, and tracts. These were uniformly read, and deep 
and permanent religious impressions were produced. 

We were for three months without any shelter or tent 
for religious worship ; but uniformly had two services on 
the Sabbath day, and one or more prayer-meetings during 
the week. 

In the month of December, the heart of the chaplain 
was cheered by more than one soldier coming to him, con- 
fessing his sins, and .asking prayers. Others came to the 
chaplain earnestly desiring religious instruction, and pro- 
fessing some interest in the question of their salvation. 

About the last of .January, through the kindness of some 
Christian friends in Pittsburg, I was enabled to purchase a 
tent for worship. This we immediately pitched, and on a 
rainy night, and the mud fabulously deep in camp, we met 
in the new tent, and, without fire and almost without light, 
stood up and dedicated it to God. 

The following Sabbath was one of marked solemnity. 
Many of the soldiers were deeply moved. The chaplain 
announced, during the service, that he would that day take 
measures to organize a church in the regiment, and invited 
all Christians to unite with the new association, and thus 
aid to advance the cause of the gospel in the army. Many 
gave their names that day, and rejoiced greatly in the 
privilege of " standing up for Jesus." The evening was 
marked by still greater solemnity, and many requested the 
privilege of enrolling themselves with the people of God. 

On Monday morning, I commenced going from tent to 
tent, talking to the soldiers and ofiicers in each, and pray- 



130 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

ins: in several. I found that the Lord had cjone before me 
and that it was wholly his work. Many had been deeply 
impressed by recent letters from home. There had been 
excited in Western Pennsylvania a great interest for the 
moral and spiritual welfare of the army. The papers 
abounded with appalling details descriptive of the crimes, 
vices, and impiety of the troops upon the Potomac. These 
accounts, when read, excited the deepest concern in many 
hearts, and led to letters of entreaty, warning, and earnest 
appeal. No doubt these letters were often wet with tears, 
and sent with many prayers. 

During the week, the religious solemnity increased. 
We held meetings every morning, and again visited from 
tent to tent. I was nowhere repul^d, but in many places 
received kindly, and often with gratitude. Often, the 
mess of a tent would confess their sins, and promise to 
each other a better life. While I was talking with one of 
these companies of soldiers, one of the mess, with tears in 
his eyes, lifted from under a pile of books and clothes a 
])ack of cards, and put them, with the approbation of all, 
into the fire. 

During this week, I was, for many hours each day, con- 
versing and praying with those who came to seek advice 
and help. We celebrated the Lord's Supper on the morn- 
ing of the third of February. The day was most beautiful 
and balmy ; never had there been such quiet and stillness 
in camp. It was like a Sabbath in one of the most orderly 
of our villages. We had a most delightful prayer-meeting 
at nine o'clock, and commenced more public services at 
half-past ten. 

First, after singing and prayer, I read the Articles of 
Faith which were the basis of union, then administered 
baptism to six young men, and read the names of those 
who desired to associate themselves as a church in the 



i 



PEE ACHING BY MOONLIGHT. 131 

army. There were one hundred and fifty-nine names, among 
which forty-six were the names of those who had been 
recently converted, and confessed Christ for the first time. 

There were, likewise, thirteen persons who placed them- 
selves under the care and teaching of the church as cate- 
chumens or inquirers. Several of these, I have no doubt, 
will soon be confirmed in the love of God. 

In the afternoon, I preached at the hospital, during 
which there was a most precious prayer-meeting held in 
the tent, and many spoke, and with the deepest emotion 
told of the new joys they felt. Sabbath night I preached 
on the words, "My Spirit shall not always strive with 
man." Five or six remained after preaching for religious 
conversation and prayer. Thus ended the most memor- 
able day in the life of many, and one that must have a 
most important influence on our future in time and 
eternity. 

VII. PREACHING BY MOONLIGHT. 

The Rev. Mr. Alvord, who has written so much, as well 
as travelled so much, for the soldiers, illustrates the varied 
nature of his Christian mission by the following vivid sketch. 
I can hardly doubt that " the guides " will hereafter point 
out the spot to which he refers as one of the memorable 
places, — the place where, in the war of the Rebellion, the 
soldier's friend preached by moonlight. In a letter to a 
correspondent, Mr. Alvord says, — 

Last evening was beautifully moonlight, and I had a 
scene which you would have delighted to witness. On the 
hillside yonder lies a cloud of canvas, and the chaplain 
proposed that I should go up and have preaching. " Of 
course," I said ; and soon the church-call from the bugle 
brought me a crowd of two or three hundred. There they 



132 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

stood, forming a circle a number of rods in diameter, and 
two or three feet deep. The moon swam through the 
heavens above, tlie great bhie dome resting on surrounding 
hills and distant water. Far over the Potomac, tlie sun in 
going down had left behind a gorgeous aurora, — his day- 
robes tlirown off at bedtime. Near and below us were 
the transports dotting the water or hanging along the rude 
wharves, and all the bustle of the day was sinking into a 
hum broken only by some neighing horse, or sweet bugle 
strains from afar, and nearer, by the in-tent talk of 
multitudes. 

In such a church, with such galleries, we broke forth 
with "Come, Holy Spirit," and then the chaplain's strong 
voice was heard in prayer. Again, " Live on the battle- 
field" rolled out in the night air. It was a kind of inspira- 
tion. All eyes w^ere now upon me. I could not see the 
eyes of any one. A ring of grim warriors in great-coats, 
each face seemingly alike, (shadowy cartoons), cen- 
tred eye and ear and heart upon my lips. It was easy to 
preach, and I trust with a blessing. Again the song rose 
more loudly than before, and with a short benediction the 
strange assembly dispersed. The majority wheeled into 
squads and marched to quarters. Others, especially officers, 
came around to thank me for the service. I retired, feel- 
ing that the word of the Lord is fitted to all people and 
all places, and that we may in the morning sow our seed, 
and in the evening hold not our hand. 

^ Vin. A SOUL BEOtJGHT TO JESUS. 

A correspondent of the "Boston Recorder," over the ini- 
tials " J. J. M.," writes as follows : — 

In one of my visits to the Court House Ilosj^ital, in 
Gettysburg, I noticed lying in the hall, among many others, 



A SOUL BROUGHT TO JESUS. 133 

an individual of a large and powerful frame. There was 
something in his countenance that fixed my attention at 
once, and awakened a special sympathy in his behalf. He 
had the look of a man who had never known fear, nor 
asked for help, — he could suffer without a groan and die 
without a complaint. 

In answer to my inquiries, I learned that he was from 
Wisconsin, and of the Sixth Regiment ; he had been wound- 
ed on the first of July, and the fatal ball had entered the 
right breast and passed out near the spine. 

He did not ask me, as many others, if I thought he 
might recover ; but said, in answer to an inquiry in regard 
to his religious hopes, — 

" Sir, I am anxious to do everything I can for my soul. 
I have received no religious education. Can you teach 
me, and tell me what I must do to be saved ? " 

I knelt on the floor by his side and endeavored to ex- 
plain to him the first principles of Christian faith. He told 
me that during the days and nights that he had been lying 
wounded and alone, he had been thinking most of the time 
of his sins against God; much of the time he had despaired 
of forgiveness. And he wished to know if there was any 
way in which God could forgive them, for he felt that he 
himself could do nothing. 

I sought to unfold to him the way of life, and to lead 
him to the Lamb of God. I was rejoiced that he compre- 
hended every truth, and appeared to rest upon the blessed 
promise, " I will be merciful to your unrighteousness, and 
your sins and your iniquities will I remember no more."^ 
Before I left him, he said to me, "Sir, I want you to baptize 
me ; I believe in Jesus Christ as my Saviour, and I wish to 
confess him before I die." 

I found on proper examination that he did not rely on 

1 Hebrews viii. 12. 
12 



134 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

baptism to save him, but merely wished to obey the divine 
command, and I hoped, as an hmnble and penitent sinner, 
he was entitled to the ordinance. 

But in order that he might rest, and have time to think 
on the subject, I left him, and returned again in an hour. 
He was expecting me, and earnestly requested me not to 
forget what I had promised. 

I brought one of the surgeons with me and a friendly 
soldier, and, kneeling by the side of the wounded man, I 
invoked the presence of the great Sufferer and endeavored 
to lift the anxious one into the bosom of eternal mercy. I 
then baptized "Levi Steadman" in the name of the blessed 
Trinity. 

When the ceremony was ended, he said, "I thank you, I 
thank you ; now I will rest." 

On the following morning, I came to his bed, but he was 
asleep, and for many hours, being called away, I was not 
able to see him ; but when I again came to him, he was 
sensible, and, while suffering the greatest pain, was evi- 
dently peaceful. 

" Do you still trust in Jesus," I said to him. 

" Oh, yes," he replied ; " I lean on him ; I hope in him 
alone; pray for me that God may forgive me, and not 
forsake me in death." 

I was again absent for more than a day, visiting the field 
hospitals, and when I returned, I hastened to the Court 
House ; but when I came to the bed of Steadman, he was 
not there. 

" Where," I said to the man, " is Steadman ? " 

" Pie died half an hour ago," was the answer. 

" And how did he die ? " I asked. 

" He was sensible and peaceful to the end, and prayed 
much that God W'Ould not judge him for his sins, but would 
show him mercy, for the sake of Jesus." 



A mother's thank-offering. 135 

May we not hope that the repenting soldier, like the 

dying thief, was received that day into the paradise of 
God? 



IX. 

The following letter furnishes an indirect, but expressive 
and deserved testimony to the value of the labors of the 
Christian Commission in sending pious men to our armies 
and hospitals, to attend to the wants of the soldiers, supply 
them with religious books, preach to them, pray with tliem 
and for them, and, with the blessing of God, lead them to a 
saving knowledge of his truth and the way of eternal life. 
It was written by Mrs. Isabella G. Duffield, a sister of the 
late Dr. Bethune, of ISTew York, and a grand-daughter of 
Isabella Graham, of whose piety and benevolence so many 
traditions still linger in the memory of our own and of a 
former generation. It becomes others, surely, who have 
sons and brothers in the army, in like manner, to remember 
by their prayers and gifts those who go forth to alleviate 
the sufferings of our soldiers, and to save them from the 
shoals and quicksands on which they are so liable to be 
wrecked, for time and eternity. 

The letter is addressed to the President of the Commis- 
sion. 

Detroit, September 30tli, 1863. 
George H. Stuart, Esq. 

Dear Sir : — Having, with great thankfulness to God, 
heard by telegraph that my youngest son. Adjutant PI. M. 
Duffield, is not wounded, but quite well at Chattanooga, I 
send you twenty dollars, as a thank-offering from a mother 
for the preservation of her son at the battle of Chicka- 



136 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

mauga.^ May the blessing of our Father in heaven go 
with it! * 

I think of the Christian Commission and the Sanitary- 
Commission as Uyin brothers going forward to their glori- 
ous work. Oh, my friend, what a iieUl is open to 
Christians now, and how ought they to improve it in trying 
to rescue those who are " led captive by the Devil at liis 
will ! " God bless you, and the dear precious Christian 
Commission ! Surely the blessing of those who are ready 
to perish will rest upon you. Ah ! little do you know how 
much comfort you give to anxious mothers, when they hear 
of your locations. "My boy is there," is her thought; and 
then she bows the knee and prays that your labors may be 
blessed to him and others. 

Surely, it is like going out into the highways and hedges, 
when you look after the spiritual wants of soldiers. You 
encourage Christian soldiers, while you awaken the impeni- 
tent. Oh, how noble to be near the sick-bed and cheer 
him with your blessed words ! 

" When the groan his faint heai't giveth 
Seems the last sigh of despair." 

Oh, how I have wept and prayed for our beloved coun- 
try! Two sons (one colonel, and the youngest the adju- 
tant) I gave. The colonel is wounded so that he cannot 
go back, and the dear young adjutant has been in this 
battle. But I put him under the shadow of God's wing, 
and he has kept him safe. I am anxious, but still I say, 

" If new soiTOw should befall, 
If my noble boy should fall, 
If the bright head I have blest 
On the cold earth finds its rest, 



1 In Tennessee, where the battle was fought between General Rosecrans and 
the Rebel Bragg. 



I 



A NEW THING m THE ARMY. 13? 

Still, with all the mother's heart 
Torn and quivering with the smart, 
I yield him 'neath Thy chastening rod, 
To my comitry and my God." 

You will never know the good you have done till " God 
shall wipe away all tears from every eye," and you see 
how many gems shall sparkle in your crown which have 
been gathered from our army. 

How much good your Commission has done ! God bless 
you all ! In haste. 

Your sister in Christ. 



X. A NEW THING IN THE ARMY. 

In one of my circuits, (says a follower of Him who 
" went about doing good,") I made a singular discovery. 
In the Vermont Twelfth, the lieutenant of the guard step- 
ped from the ranks (they were then on duty), and took 
" Banners " ^ for all his company. He expressed his hearty 
and repeated thanks for them. Having directed me to the 
chaplain, whom I wished to see, he added, "And I have 
just paroled fifty men for Sabbath school service." He 
then pointed to some unfinislied barracks outside of the 
camp, and said, "You'll find the scholars there." 

I turned my steps thither. The new Bucktail Regiment 
lay partly between this and the barracks, and on the way I 
gave some of my stores to them. Reaching the place, I found 
what I have never seen before in this army or any other. 
I fourid what I think was never seen before in any army on 
earth, — a regularly organized Sabbath school, — organized, 
as I afterwards learned, before the brave Vermonters left 
their native mountains. There they were, in squads or 
classes, each with a teacher at its head, intent on their 
lessons. 

1 The title of a periodical for soldiers. 
12* 



138 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

XI. THE lord's supper IN CAMP. 

A clergyman, who, among other labors which he per- 
formed on a temporary visit to the army, took part in the 
administration of the Lord's Supper, sets before us the fol- 
lowing scene : — 

I enjoyed this privilege (he says) in the camp of the 
Seventieth Indiana Regiment, whose chaplain, the Rev. 
A. C. Allen, was a room-mate with me at college many 
years ago. The colonel of the regiment was B. Harrison, 
a grandson of President Harrison, a pious man and an 
elder in the church. He, with a captain, who holds the 
same religious office at home, and a pious surgeon, in whom 
I found a former pupil of mine, acted as officiating elders. 

The preparatory service was held on Saturday night, in 
the open air, before the chaplain's tent. Hundreds of offi- 
cers and soldiers were present. On Sabbath morning, the 
dress parade and inspection were held before breakfast, so 
as not to interfere with the religious service. At nine, a. 
M., the bugle sounded, and the people came flocking to 
the front of the colonel's tent, each bringing his chair, 
stool or box, on which to sit. The prayer, the hymn, the 
text and the sermon, all pointed to a common theme, — 
Calvary and its victim. None were unaffiicted, and many 
were moved to tears, when, with bowed heads, the commu- 
nicants gathered together to partake of the broken bread 
and poured-out wine. We all felt that Jesus was at 
the head of tlie table, and that he was there to dispense 
rich blessings to his humble, grateful guests. The closing 
act was au exliortation, earnest and direct to those who 
had renewed the vows of their espousal, and the soldiers 
then retired with strength for days to come, — days of 
temptation fierce and strong to all, — days of trial and 
sulTering to many. 



J 



THE FIRST SABBATH AT BEAUFORT. 139 

There was an evening service, at which the t>bject was 
to incite Christians to set the standard of their piety high, 
to show themselves worthy followers of Hira who, among 
the other ends of his work on earth, has taught us how to 
live as well as to die, who "was holy, harmless, undefiled." 
'In the army, especially, men need all the strength that 
a due observance of the Lord's Supper can afford. Helped 
by such means, and compelled as they are to be watchful, 
or forfeit all, no doubt some among them develop a more 
robust, symmetrical character in the army than they would 
ever have reached amid the more quiet scenes of life at 
home. 

XII. THE FIRST SABBATH AT BEAUFORT. 

Our forces took possession of this town on the tenth of 
November, 1861. The flag of the nation, which had been 
hauled down and dishonored in the capture of Sumter, 
had just been raised once more, at Hilton Head, on the soil 
of South Carolina, with shouts of triumph and salvos of 
artillery. 

The Roundheads,^ and the Michigan Eighth were sent 
to this outpost of the chief military station. The first 
Sabbath came ; — and shall its wonted rest, the teachings and 
prayers of the sanctuary, be denied to those Avanderers from 
a distant home? No; there were pious ofiicers there, and 
ministers of Clnist, who were careful to mark the day as 
the day which God has hallowed, and to turn its oppor- 
tunities to account for the benefit of the soldier. 

We w^i'e strolling leisurely through the streets, on that 
Sabbatli (writes a correspondent from the place), Avhen 
suddenly the glorious notes of " Old Hundred " burst on 
our ears. The extreme quiet of the town, the gentle sigh- 

1 See the account of them on page 27. 



140 MEMORIES OF THE WAR. 

ing of the moss-grown oaks, the full, deep tones of the 
organ, and the powerful voices of the singers, as they joined 
in the hymn, combined to awaken feelings which it is not 
easy to describe. We followed the sounds, and were led 
to the Baptist church, and there a scene met our eyes, for 
which, in our ignorance of any such gathering, we were 
not at all prepared. The glittering muzzles protruding 
from the wmdows, and the stack of drums without, pro- 
claimed the nature of the exercises. Nor, on entering the 
sacred place, was the sight less novel or unexpected. Over 
the pulpit, from which treason had so long been preached, 
hung in graceful folds the regimental colors of the Pennsyl- 
vania " Roundheads." Ministers of the gospel Avere in the 
desk. A sermon was preached, and the other parts of 
worship performed in connection with the sermon. A 
prayer for our common country and its lawful rulers was 
offered once more, and for the first time there since the 
beginning of the rebellion. After the benediction the 
Roundheads and the men of the Michigan Eighth gave 
three patriotic cheers, and then taking down their arms, 
inarched quietly back to their tents. 



XIII. A LEAF FROM HIS JOURNAL. 

A correspondent from the army who went, with a friend, 
among the soldiers to disti-ibute medical stores, and Bibles, 
tracts, and other religious books, found a general eagerness 
among them to receive such donations. A single leaf from 
his journal may be copied here. 

Wending our way down a deep gully beyond the fort, 
we passed up and around Fort Marcy, and approached a 
regimental hospital. Here the sick boys of the Vermont 
Second took gratefully both our tracts and the comforts 



A LEAF FROM HIS JOUEiN-AL. 141 

for invalids. I said to one of thera, "Do you not want to 
go home?" 

" Yes," said he, " but not till we conquer the rebels." 

There were tents in a wooded region on our right, from 
which the men, as soon as they heard of our errand, came 
up and begged for books. 

"How glad I am for this," said one of thera, as he 
pressed a Testament upon his bosom between his two 
hands. Half a mile further, we came upon the Pennsyl- 
vania First Cavalry. We stopped and handed a tract to a 
soldier by the road-side. He thanked us, and flourishing 
the prize over his head, shouted to his comrades, of whom 
twenty or more came rushing to the spot. The supplying 
of these brought to us ten times their number, and in five 
minutes they were twenty deep on either side of our 
wagon, shouting, " Give me one," " Give me one," " Give 
me a Testament," and a perfect palisade of extended arms 
and grasping hands environed us. We urged them to 
stand back; for it seemed as if wagon and horse would 
break down under their weight. They did so instantly; 
but the clamor only rose from a wider circle, " Give me a 
book! Give me a book! " 

One of them held up a pack of cards in his hand, and 
challenged an exchange. 

•" Give me a Testament," he said, " and I'll give up the 
cards!" 

The Testament was given, and he then threw the cards 
beneath our horse's feet. And so we worked, both of us, 
dealing out our supply of books to the eager, hungering 
crowd, as fist as our hands could pass them to those who 
received them. I could think of nothing but the assault 
of starving men, and these men like a pack of hungry 
wolves from the forest, that had Jbroken loose upon us. I 
noticed among them one poor fellow, who, shot through 



142 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

the lungs, seemed near bis end; his lips were pnle, and his 
every feature marked him as a victim of the grave. I 
stoo[)ed down and spoke to him of Christ. 

"I can trust in Him," he faintly replied. 

The smile on his pallid countenance showed that he was 
resting on the hope " which is sure and steadflist." 

" Dear youth, happy even in such distress," I said to my- 
self Christian friends of the sokliers should pray that all 
who die may die as cahnly, and remember that what we 
do for them must be done quickly. 

The next regiment to which we came had a chapLain, 
but the men said, "We never see him!" He is one of a 
class that ought never to have been here. Many of the 
chaplains are noble, faithful men, who honor their profes- 
sion, and make themselves indispensable to the army. But 
some, I must say, have no fitness for their work, and some 
are a disGfrace to the office. 



XIY. GIFT OF THE PRAYER-BOOKS. 

It was a gift which illustrates the Preacher's word : ^ — 

" In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening with- 
hold not thine hand : for thou knowest not whether shall 
prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be 
alike good." 

"Are you going to take your book with you to the 
battle-field ? " This question Edward R. Graton, of Com- 
pany C, a native of Clappville, Mass., addressed to one 
of his companions, the day before the fight at Newbern, 
N. C. 

" I don't know," the other replied. 

" I shall take mine," said he, and at tlie word he placed 
it carefully in the left breast pocket of his blouse. 

1 Ecclesiastes xi. 6. 



FORTUNES OF A BIBLE. 143 

These prayer-books, (says the Rev. Mr. James, chaplain 
of one of the 'New England Regiments,)^ had been given 
to them by a friend at home the day they started for the 
war. A copy was given also to another soldier of the com- 
pany, but he threw it away at Camp Hicks, in Annapolis. 

Among the first who were brought back wounded from 
the field was Graton, — shot with a ball through his side. 
It had passed in at his left breast, and out at his back, mak- 
ing a severe and dangerous wound. It would have proved 
mortal at the instant, had it not passed directly through his 
prayer-book, a distance of an inch and a quarter. This 
obstacle deadened the force of the bullet, and gave it 
another direction. The book lies before me as I write, 
(says the chaplain,) pierced on its side ; and very near the 
middle of the cover is seen the blood of the owner, stain- 
ing it through at least two hundred pages. 

This prayer-book, worn in his bosom, which turned aside 
thus the shaft of death, lengthened out his probation a whole 
precious month. During this time, there was an opportu- 
nity for many interviews with him. He often expressed 
fully and freely his trust in the Lord Jesus, as the sinner's 
friend and Saviour, and when he died, died peaceful and 
happy in his sheltering arms. 

This little book will be dear to his friends, and especially 
to his mother. I have engaged to give it to her in person, 
(says Mr. James,) after our return home. 



XV. FORTUNES OF A BIBLE. 

The battle had been raging fearfully for many hours on 
the bloody field of Antietara, with alternate victory and 
defeat. In one continued shower the leaden hail poured 

1 Connected with General Burnside's expedition to Newbern and Roanoke. 



144 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

thick and fast into the ranks of our brave soldiers, leaving 
thousands of them dead or wounded. 

Where the contest had been fiercest, a soldier, severely- 
wounded, was lying upon the ground, unable to move. 
The dead and dying were all around him, but the voice of 
one among them seemed to rise above the rest, indicating 
by its tone the most intense anguish. The wounded man 
looked around him this way and that as far as he was able, 
to see if he could distinguish whose voice it was, but in 
vain. He then called to know who it was, and the reply 
came in an agonized voice: "It is I. Oh, I'm dying, I'm 
dying." His unseen comrade tried to comfort him as well 
as he could, and suggested that he might be better in a 
short time; but the poor fellow replied, "Oh no; I'm dying, 
Fm dying." 

Then rallying all his remaining strength, he threw a 
book in the direction of his new-found friend, and asked 
him to take care of it. At that moment a rebel soldier 
came along, and gave this friend a drink from his canteen ; 
and emboldened by his kindness, the Union soldier asked 
him to show the same favor to the dying comrade, who 
was writhing in his agony a few feet from him. Very soon 
the Southerner returned, saying that it was too late, the 
man was already dead. He then asked the Southerner if 
he would hand him the book that had been thrown to him, 
and he kindly complied with this request. It proved to 
be a pocket Bible, handsomely bound, with the name of 
"W. S. Pollard, Thirteenth Regiment Massachusetts Volun- 
teers," engraved in gilt upon the cover. 

The wounded soldier was soon taken with others of his 
comrades to a place of safety, and he carried with him to 
his hospital bed the dying gift so affectionately presented 
to him. He knew notliing of the donor except his name, 
and whether or not the precious truths contained in his 



\ 

AX ANSAVER TO PRATER. 145 

Bible were the solace of bis dying moments will be known 
perhaps only in eternity; but it was evidently his last 
earthly thought and care to place the sacred volume where 
it would, be cared for and blessed to others. Doubtless 
some kind friend, perhaps a mother or a sister, had pi-e- 
sented it to him, and with thoughtful care, had made an 
oil-silk cover, which, though carried through marches and 
into battle, had preserved it pure and unsullied. 

The soldier into whose possession the Bible came in 
such a peculiar manner was a Pcnnsylvanian, and was in- 
duced somewhat reluctantly to dispose of it to a pious 
fellow-soldier in the hospital, who was from Massachusetts. 
This soldier has since returned, and it was at his house 
that the writer saw the Bible, and learned its interesting 
history. The blessed promises contained in this book may 
have comforted and cheered the poor soldier who first owned 
it through many a weary hour in the camp and on the 
march. Having passed unharmed through the smoke and 
peril of battle, and been rescued from among the dead and 
dying on the field of blood, may it yet be the means of 
leading many a precious soul into the paths of peace.-^ 



XVI. AN ANSWER TO PRAYER. ^ 

I was passing the camp of a Rhode Island Regiment, 
near Falmouth, when a soldier came up and said to me 
abruptly, " Do you belong to the Christian Commission ? " 

"I do," I replied. 

" Then I saw some of your men at Stoneman's Station, 
and received some papers from them." 

1 From " S. E. D.," iu the American Messenger. The writer appends \o 
the article this notice: — "Mr. Pollard's relatives may obtain this Bible by 
addressing Mr. S. H. Lincoln, Plainfield, Mass." 

13 



14G MEMOKIAL^^F THE WAR. 

This was all the introduction, and he then went on to 
relate to me some passages of his life. 

"I came out here," said he, "as rough and bad as any of 
the men. But I liad left a praying mother at home. 
AVhile in camp at Poolesville, I heard that she was dead. 
After that, her image was never out of my thoughts. It 
seemed as if her form appeared to me as in a mirror, and 
always as wrestling for her wayward son. Go where I 
might, I felt as if I saw her in her place of prayer, kneel- 
ing and putting up her petitions to God, and not even the 
roar of the battle could drown tlie soft tones of her voice." 

He was in the fight at Fair Oaks, and when it ceased, sat 
down exhausted upon a log by the road-side, and then, to 
use his own words, he "thouglit over the matter." Heaps 
of dead men lay on every side of him. They had fallen, 
but he was still unharmed. The melting words of his 
mother's prayer came back to his mind with new power. 
He thought of his own condition, and of her happy home, 
so far removed from the strife and agony of war. 

A pious soldier of his company noticed that he was very 
thoughtful, and inquired the reason. To this friend he 
opened his mind freely, and told him how he felt. They 
sought occasions for private conference, communed togetlier 
and prayed, and strength was given him to make "the last 
resolve ;" and the soldier who had been so "rough and bad" 
became a soldier in the army of the meek and lowly Jesus. 
The sainted mother had not prayed in vain. A battle had 
just been fought, a victory won, which was spreading joy 
tlu'oughout the nation; but here, too, wns a triumph, — a 
different triumph, — such as causes the angels of God in 
heaven to rejoice. 

I have seldom found a happier man than I found in this 
young soldier. He was happy in the service of his Master, 
and happy in the service of his country. Nearly all the 



A SABBATH WITH THE COXTEABAXDS. 147 

company were irreligious and profane, but he was firm 
against ridicule and opposition. He and his friend did 
what they could to hold up the cross, and save their com- 
rades. He told me that they went often into the woods 
to pray, and enjoyed happy seasons there, even when they 
were the only two. 



XVn. A SABBATH WITH THE CONTRABANDS. 

I had attended a meeting of chaplains at Bealton 
Station, on Saturday, and on Sabbath morning Avent out 
from the tent of the Christian Commission, and met a 
company of contrabands at the depot, with whom I had, 
on the previous evening, had some conversation. 

There were probably one hundred and fifty of them. 
Some of them were men of iamilies, and had left their 
wives and children in slavery, and were every hour praying 
for the advance of our army, in order that our troops 
might liave an opportunity to reach them and conduct 
them to freedom. Several of these men were most devout 
and earnest Christians. Every evening, they held a prayer- 
meeting in the midst of their tents, in which there were 
shed many tears at the mention of their families. The 
scene would often strike those from our orderly and severely 
quiet churches as wild and boisterous ; but these children 
of nature cannot pray in set forms, nor always act with 
measured propriety. Loud are their cries for par^lon, 
many are the trembling and convulsive movements of the 
body. 

" You have had a stormy time of it to-night, uncle." 

" Yes, massa ; the living child when it is born cries, the 
dead say nothing." 

1 From the correspondence of Rev. Dr. Marks, in the Army of the Potomac. 



148 MEMORIALa^F THE WAR. 

I listened on Saturday night, at their camp-fire, to the 
stones of these children of oppression, and admired more 
than ever their forgiving temper. In some cases, however, 
it was evident the iron had often entered into the soul, 
and they had many times in the past said, "It is better to 
die than to live." 

To these men I preached on Sabbath morning at six 
o'clock, first asking permission of the suj^erin ten dent. 
This was most freely granted ; he at the same time bore 
the highest testimony to the sobriety, honesty, and piety 
of these contrabands ; and said, in contrast with this, that 
some months ago he had under his care one hundred 
Irishmen, and every day he had quarrels among them, 
fights, and drunkenness, and often his life was threatened 
and in danger; but here he had no trouble. These men 
were satisfied with their rations, thankful for employment, 
and quiet and gentle. 

They gathered around me, and I preached to them on 
the tenderness and pity of our Lord, and that in their 
trials and sorrow they might have the assurance of his 
help and aid. I likewise reminded them of the patience 
and long-suffering of the Son of God, and said they, in 
imitation of his example, should forgive those who had in- 
flicted on them stripes, torn from them their children,, 
and in other ways made their lives so bitter to them. 
They listened with the greatest interest, and some with 
tears exclaimed, "Yes, blessed Jesus, we will forgive, for 
we are great sinners." ^ 

A few days after this, I was walking in the streets of 
Alexandria, and heard some one running behind me, and 
crying aloud, "Massa, massa preacher!" 

I looked around and saw a young black man who with 

1 That petition in the Lord's Prayer — "Forgive us our debts as we forgiva 
our debtors " — could not have a more beautiful illustration. 



THE POWER OF SYMPATHY. 149 

a beaming face addressed me as an old friend, and said, 
" Massa, I can never forget you ; you preached for us last 
Sabbath morning at Bealton. We all thanked you, and 
talked afterward of what you said." 

The whole appearance of his face was that of one who 
had met a life-long friend. The incident gave me much 
food for reflection. What a noble and grateful race have 
we been long despising and trampling under our feet ! 



XVIII. THE POWER OP SYMPATHY. 

The human heart is won to the truth much oftener by 
sympathy and example than by argument. 

As Miss A passed through the wards of the soldier's 

hospital on B Street, dispensing words of comfort and 

encouragement to the patients, a middle-aged man, stern 
by nature, at times morose, complained to her of a night 
of extreme pain. She expressed to him her sympathy in 
the kindest manner, and added, "I hope you felt, though 
absent from loved ones, that you had the presence of a 
loving Saviour with you." 

He replied harshly, " Miss A , you spoke to me on 

that subject once before; I wish to say to you, never men- 
tion it to me again. If I want to be religious, I will send 
for a minister, and get his advice." 

In a sorrowful tone she bade him good-morning, and 
turned away. 

One morning after this, as she passed his cot and he was 
sleeping, she laid some fresh flowers on his pillow and 
noiselessly withdrew. As the fever left him, he was dis- 
posed to sleep much, and she could repeat the act again 
and again without his notice. Day after day, his eyes were 
greeted with these fragrant messengers, without his having 

13* 



150 MEMOKIALS^P THE WAR. 

seen the hand that brought them to him. He became at 
length impatient to know to whom he was indebted for 
the grateful favor. He inquired of some of those around 
him who could be in the liospital that cared so much for 
him. Perhaps secrecy had been enjoined; at all events he 
obtained no information. 

After several days, wlien he had become decidedly stronger, 
he awoke one morning, and, instead of the accustomed 
bouquet, he found a neat copy of the New Testament on his 

pillow. At the sight of this, he inquired, "Is Miss A 

in the hospital ? I know it must be she ; will you please 
to send for her?" 

On her coming to him, he took her hands between his, 
and, with a voice choked with emotion, exclaimed, " Can 
you forgive my rude, ungentlemanly conduct toward 
you? How could you, after such treatment, be so kind?" 

" I only want you to know how kind Jesus is, and how 
he loves you," was her gentle reply. 

Months passed away, and I heard again of the same 
man as being in one of our suburban hospitals. He was 
still an invalid, but so much better that he was acting as a 
nurse, and, in strange contrast with wdiat lie had been for- 
merly, was taking a deep interest in the religious welfare 
of the inmates. Happening to speak of his being in the 

hospital on B street, he was asked if he ever saw a 

lady. Miss A , who attended on the sick." 

"Miss A ?"he replied. "Certainly I saw her, and 

have cause to remember her. She ^vas the angel of the 
hospital, and the means of leading me to a knowledge of 
the Saviour." 1 

1 See the kindred article on page 66. 



A RELIGIOUS SERVICE FOR THE VETERANS. 151 



XIX. A RELIGIOUS SERVICE FOR THE VETERANS. 

After breakfast at the Commission tent, I started (says 
Dr. Marks) in company with a brother in the ministry, 
from Long Ishmd, and two others, for White Sulphur 
Springs, around which were the encampments of the Third 
corps. 

We found the Fortieth New York Regiment, of which 
an excellent brother. Rev. Mr. Gilder, is chaplain, drawn 
up to hear addresses from us. This regiment has passed 
through all the severe battles of the Army of the Potomac, 
and has had at different times united to it the Hundredth 
New York, the Eighty-seventh and the Thirty-seventh 
New York. It is now one of the most powerful in the 
service; though it has lost more than twelve hundred men, 
by disease and battle. 

We had with these veterans a most interesting service. 
The pleasure with which we looked upon the scene was 
increased by the presence of all the officers. No congre- 
gation in the army, that I have had the privilege to ad- 
dress, ever enlisted my interest like these — none more 
awake, none more easily touched. We stand with rever- 
ence before these men, for they have been in deaths oft, 
and perilled all that is dear to man for their country. 

After the services, we went through the camp streets, 
and conversed with many whom we had known in the 
Peninsula. 

We found in this regiment many truly pious men, who 
had suffered apparently no spiritual loss in consequence of 
long absence from home and the sanctuary. 

At three o'clock, p. m., we went to the camp of the 
Fourth Maine, of which the Rev. Mr. Chase is chaplain, 
and found assembled the officers and men of the Fourth, 



152 MEMORIALS^^ THE WAR. 

Third, and Seventeenth Maine, for public worship. One 
of the streets in camp was selected as the place for 
preaching. The men sat down on blankets, gun-cloths, 
and leaves on the ground. A man of any thought or emo- 
tion must stand with the deepest reverence in the presence 
of such veterans. 

The remnant of these regiments are the strong dauntless 
men who have endured every sacrifice, braved every peril, 
and met death a hundred times. These are the men who, 
for more than two ^ears, have borne all that to human 
imagination is most terrible, in trial, suffering, sickness, pri- 
vation, and wounds. And yet all has been patiently and 
uncomplainingly endured. 

The face beaten by so many storms is bronzed and stern, 
reminding one of the appearance of the Roman soldiers as 
seen on the monuments of antiquity. But one has only to 
speak to these men to find there is a heart that still feels, 
and to be convinced that the pulses of i^iety still beat. 

I preached to this most interesting assemblage of men, 
and reminded them of scenes in the Peninsula; of the 
long marches, the storms, and the terrific battles through 
which they had passed ; how many of their companions 
had fallen, and how deep should be their gratitude to 
Heaven that they were alive. After I had finished, the 
other brethren followed and added much to the impression 
and interest of the hour. After the service was ended, we 
went through the throng conversing with many. 

After night, we went to the camp- of the Sixty-third 
Pennsylvania, and held a meeting with that and the sol- 
diers of surrounding regiments. It was a spectacle never 
to be forgotten. The solemn grandeur of the heavens, 
the silent stars looking down upon us, the multitude of 
upturned faces, lighted by the camp-fires, the burst of holy 
sons; borne afar off and reechoed in murmurs from the 



A KELIGIOTJS SERVICE WITH THE VETERANS. 153 

valleys, the subdued silence of prayer, the profound and 
reverent attention paid to the sermon, the greetings of 
hundreds of old friends, and the revival of memories of 
marches, battles, and hospitals, made this night-scene and 
worship of the greatest interest. 

I was greatly rejoiced, in subsequent conversations, to 
find that many whom I had feared were dead had re- 
covered from their wounds and w^re now in the regiment 
or had returned to their homes. And I gathered from the 
conversations of the day, and from the feeling manifested, 
that there never was a time in the history of the army 
when the men more desired religious instruction or were 
so eager to listen to the gospel.^ 

1 This communication is under date of October, 1863. 



CHAPTER YI. 

HAPPY DEATHS OF BRAVE MEN. 



I. DEATH OF GENERAL MITCHELL. 

This distinguished officer died at Beaufort, S. C, on the 
evening of Tliursday, October thirtieth, 1862, shortly after 
his assumption of the command of that distritjt. He had 
ah'eady performed some of the most brilliant exploits of 
the war, and great hopes rested on him for the future. 
His death was justly regarded as one of the greatest losses 
that the country has sustained. His name will shine with 
lustre in American history, as long as the memory of pa- 
triotism, valor, and genius shall abide among men. A gen- 
tleman who watched at his bedside has given the following 
description of his last hours. 

The general, as I stood near him, reached out his hand, 
and taking mine, looked up in my fice, and said, "It is a 
blessed thing to have a Christian's hope in a time like this." 
After an hour, perhaps, he beckoned to me, and feebly 
shaking my hand, said, "You must not stay longer; gd 
now, and come to me in the morning." 

Major Birch, who had been untiring in his attentions, 
entered, almost convulsed with grief. He had just taken 
down the last will and wishes of his beloved commander. 
He conducted the Rev. Mr. Strickland to the bedside of 
the general, and beckoned me to follow. I did not hear 
all the words of the general, as the Rev. Mr. Strickland 
stooped to speak to him ; but I did hear him say, " Kneel 
down," and then add the request that he would offer a 

164 



DEATH OF GENERAL MITCHELL. 155 

short prayer. How still he lay while that prayer was ad- 
dressed to the throne of the God of Battles ! At its conclu- 
sion, as we rose from our knees, his eyes rested on me, and 
his hand was extended again. " You can do me no good," 
said he faintly; "do not stay." His mind see^ied per- 
fectly clear and calm, but he was failing constantly. 

Oh, it is a tearful sight to us all to see a father thus 
dying at the same hour with his tAvo sons, and they not 
know it, — not permitted to treasure up his last words, his 
last look ; that all these must be given to strangers. But 
they are too sick yet to bear the blow; it would shatter 
them ; therefore they must be kept in ignorance till a com- 
ing hour. 

At seven o'clock, p. m., of the same day, the writer 
adds, — 

General Mitchell has breathed his last. He is gone 
from us. Our hopes that were placed on him must be 
placed higher, higher. With Victor Hugo, we must learn 
to say, "It is not generals or soldiers, but God, who must 
give us the victory, in this war of the powers of darkness!" 

General Mitchell had entire possession of his faculties 
till within an hour or two of his departure, when his 
reason seemed to wander. His last intelligent expression 
was, "I am ready to go." His last intelligent look was di- 
rected to the Rev. Mr. Strickland and when he could speak 
no longer, seeing that friend approach, he pointed with his 
hand twice toward heaven, and the next moment his soul 
took its flight thither.^ 

He died after an illness of four days only. His remains 
rest in the shadow of the Episcopal church in Beaufort, 
S. C, near those of his aid-de-camp, Captain Williams, 
who died two days before him. 

1 1 have added a few words to this letter from a supplementary report. 



156 MEMORIALS ^F THE WAR. 



II. THE child's prayer THAT OF THE MAN. 

It was the evening after a great battle. All clay long 
the din of strife had echoed fiir, and thickly strewn lay the 
shattered forms of those so lately erect and exultant in the 
flush and strength of manhood. Among the many who 
bowed to the conqueror Death that night, was a youth in 
the first freshness of mature life. The strong limbs lay list- 
less, and the dark hair was matted Avith gore, on the pale, 
broad forehead. His eyes were closed. As one who min- 
istered to the sufierer bent over him, he at first thought 
him dead ; but the white lips moved, and slowly in weak 
tones he repeated, 

" Now I lay me down to sleep, 
I pray the Lord ray soul to keep ; 
If I should die before I wake, 
I pray the Lord my soul to take ; 
And this I ask for Jesus' sake." 

As he finished, he opened his eyes, and, meeting the 
pitying gaze of a brother soldier, he exclaimed, "My 
mother taught me that when I was a little boy, and I have 
said it every night since I can remember. Before the 
morning dawns, I believe that God will take my soul for 
' Jesus' sake ; ' but before I die, I want to send a message 
to my mother." 

He was carried to a temporary hospital, and a letter was 
written to his mother, which he dictated, full of Christian 
faith and filial love. He was calm and peaceful. Just as 
the sun arose, his spirit went home. His last articulate 
words were, — 

*' I pray the Lord my soul to take ; 
And this I ask for Jesus' sake." 



so THE YOUNG SOLDIER DIED. 157 

So died William B of the Massachusetts Volunteers. 

The prayer of childhood was the prayer of manhood. He 
learned it at his mother's knee in his far distant Northern 
home, and he whispered it in dying, when his young life 
ebbed away on a Southern battle-field. 



III. so THE YOUNG SOLDIER DIED. 

"Bring me my knapsack," said a young soldier, who lay 
sick in one of the hospitals at Washington, and was evi- 
dently near his end, — "bring me my knapsack." 

" Why do you want your knapsack ? " inquired the head 
lady of the band of nui-ses. 

"I want my knapsack," said the young man again and 
yet more earnestly. 

His knapsack was brought to him, and, as he took it, his 
eye gleamed with pleasure, and a smile passed over his 
countenance as he brought out from it, one after another, 
its hoarded treasures. 

"There," said he, "that is a Bible from my mother. 
And this — Washington's farewell address — is the gift of 
my fother. And this " His voice failed. 

The nurse looked down to see what it was, and there 
was the face of a beautiful maiden. 

"Now," said the dying young soldier, " I want you to 
put all these under my pillow." 

She did as she was requested, and the poor sufferer, 
overcome by the strength of his feelings and the progress 
of disease, laid himself down to die, with the precious 
tokens under his head. He directed the mementos to be 
sent to his parents when he should be no more. Calm and 
joyful was he as he rapidly breathed his life away. For 
u 



158 MEMORIALS ^ THE WAR. 

him it was only passing from niglit to endless day, from 
death to immortality. So the young soldier died. 



lY. THE LAST MESSAGE. 

A young soldier, while dying very happily in the Douglas 

Hospital, in the District of Columbia, broke out in singing 

the following stanza : — 

" Gi'eat Jehovah, we adore thee, 
God the Father, God the Son, 
God the Spirit, joined in glory- 
On the same eternal throne: 

Endless praises 
To Jehovah, three in one." 

The cha})lain then asked him if he had any message to 
send to his friends. 

"Yes," said he. "Tell my father that I have tried to 
pray as we used to pray at home. Tell him that Christ is 
now all my hope, all my trust, that he is precious to my 
soul. Tell him that I am not afraid to die, — all is calm. 
Tell him that I believe Christ will take me to himself, and 
to my dear sister who is in heaven." 

The voice of the dying boy faltered in the intervals 
between these precious sentences. When the hymn com- 
mencing, " Nearer, my God, to thee," was read to him, at 
the end of each stanza, he exclaimed with striking energy, 
" O Lord Jesus, thou art coming nearer to me." Also, at 
the end of each stanza of the hymn (which was also read 
to him) commencing, — 

" Just as I am — without one plea, 

But that thy blood was shed for me, 
And that thou bid'st me come to thee, 
Lamb of God, I come," 

he exclaimed, "I come! O Lamb of God, I come!" 



SURPRISED, BUT READY. 159 

Speaking again of his friends, he said, "Tell my father 
that I died happy." His last words were, "Heavenly 
Father, I'm coming to thee ! " Then the Christian soldier 
sweetly and calmly fell " asleep in Jesus." 

This scene was witnessed by about twenty fellow-soldiers, 
and the effect upon the feelings of all was very marked. 

A Roman Catholic, who lay near the dying one, said, 
with tears in his eyes, and with strong emotion, "I never 
want to die happier than that man did." Another said, "I 
never prayed until last night ; but when I saw that man 
die so happy, I determined to seek religion too." 



V. SURPRISED, BUT READY. 

The clock had just struck the midnight hour, when tlie 
chaplain Avas summoned to the cot of a wounded soldier. 
He had left him only an hour before with confident hopes 
of his speedy recovery, — hopes which were shared by the 
surgeon and the wounded man himself. But a sudden 
change had taken place, and the surgeon had come to say 
that the man could live but an hour or two at most, and to 
beg the chaplain to make the fearful announcement to the 
dying man. 

He was soon at his side, but, overpowered by his emo- 
tions, was utterly unable to deliver his message. The 
dying man, however, quickly read the solemn truth ih the 
altered looks of the chaplain, his faltering voice and ambig- 
uous words. He had not before entertained a doubt of 
his recovery. He was expecting soon to see his mother, 
and with her kind nursing soon to be well. He was there- 
fore entirely unprepared for the announcement, and at first 
it was overwhelming. 

" I am to die, then ; and, — how long ? " 



160 MEMORIAL^pF THE WAR. 

As he bad before expressed hope in Christ, the chapLiin 
replied, "You have made your peace with God; let death 
come as soon as it will, he will carry you over the rivei*." 

"Yes; but .this is so awfully sudden, awfully sudden!" 
— his lips quivered; he looked uj") grievingly — "and I shall 
not see my mother." 

"Christ is better than a mother," murmured the chaplain. 

"Yes." The word came in a whisper. His eyes jyere 
closed ; the lips still wore that trembling grief, as if the 
chastisement were too sore, too hard to be borne; but as 
the minutes passed, and the soul lifted itself up stronger 
and more steadily, upon the wings of prayer, the counte- 
nance grew calmer, the lips steadier; and when the eyes 
opened again, there was a light in their depths that could 
have come only from heaven. 

" I thank you for your courage," he said, more feebly, 
taking the hand of the chaplain ; " the bitterness is over 
now, and I feel willing to die. Tell my mother" — he 
paused, gave one sob, dry, and full of the last anguish of 
earth — "tell her how I longed to see her; but if God will 
permit me, I will be near her. Tell her to comfort all 
who loved me, to say that I thought of them all. Tell my 
father that I am glad he gave his consent, and that other 
fathers will mourn for other sons. Tell my minister, by 
word or letter, that I thought of him, and that I thank 
him for all his counsels. Tell him I find that Christ will 
not desert the passing soul, and that I wish him to give 
my testimony to the living, that nothing is of real worth 
but the rehgion of Jesus. And now, will you pray with 
me?" 

With swelling emotion and tender tones, the chaplain 
besought God's grace and presence ; then, restraining his 
sobs, he bowed down and pressed upon the beautiful brow, 
already chilled with the breath of the coming angel, twice, 



NOT DUMB, THOUGH SPEECHLESS. IGl 

thrice, a fervent kiss. They might have been as tokens 
from the father and mother, as well as hmiself. So thought 
perhaps the dying soldier, for a heavenly smile touched his 
face with new beauty, as he said, "Thank you; I w^on't 
trouble you any longer. You are wearied out ; go to your 
rest." 

" The Lord God be with you," was the firm response. 
"Amen," trembled from the fast whitening lips. 

Another hour passed. The chaplain still moved uneasily 
around his room. There were hurried sounds overhead, 
and footsteps on the stairs. He opened his door, and encoun- 
tered the surgeon, who whispered one little word, "Gone." 
Christ's soldier had found the Captain of his salvation. 



YI. LOOKING UP. 

As the Rev. Mr. Chidlaw was leaving the side of a 
dying soldier, in one of the Western hospitals, he heard the 
uncomplaining sufferer say, "It is a blessed thing to die 
looking up." 

" And what does my brother behold, looking up ? " 
"Christ and heaven," was the prompt and joyous 
response. 

VII. NOT DUMB, THOUGH SPEECHLESS. 

In one of the hospitals near Alexandria lay a youthful 
soldier gasping his last breath. lie could not speak ; but 
by signs he made his comrade, who was a kind-hearted 
though unlettered son of Erin, understand that he wanted 
the chaplain. Rev. Mr. B was soon by his bedside. 

"What is it, my poor boy?" he said kindly. 

The dying youth feebly pointed to his mother's signature 
14 * 



162 MKMOriIALW)F THE WAR. 

in a letter lying beside his pillow, then more feebly to the 
dark locks which shaded his pale brow. 

The chaplain was quick to catch his meaning. " Send a 
lock of hair to your mother, James?" The eager nod 
answered him. 

" Any message, dear boy ? Can you whisper a word of 
flirewell?" 

No, he could not; his breath was nearly spent. But a 
slight movement of his finger, first pointing to his heart, 
and tlien upward, was full of significance to the intent eye 
of the soldier's friend. 

"Yes, Jamie, I understand, — your soul is resting on 
Jesus, you are going to your heavenly home. I shall write 
to your mother, and she will bless God amid her tears." 

A loving, grateful smile beamed upon the chaplain, and 
Jamie was no more. 



VIII. THE DOCTOR'S YOUTHFUL PATIENT. 

An army correspondent of the Philadelphia "Presbyte- 
rian" gives the foUov/ing incident as related by a medical 
friend, in the cabin of a Mississippi transport steamer, to a 
group of listening soldiers : — 

In the town of L , where I reside and practise my 

profession, a company was raised for the Iowa Regi- 
ment. Among the volunteers was a boy about sixteen 

years of age, and known as Billy W . His home was 

a den of iniquity and vice. His parents were the vilest 
of the vile. I know of no moral, and of but few human, 
laws that they did not habitually violate. So far as I 
know, Billy never attended a Sabbath scliool. I do not 
believe he ever attended church half a dozen times in his 
life; and as to religious knowledge, I regarded him as little 



THE doctor's youthful PATIENT. 163 

better than a heathen. Before the company left us, e very- 
member of it was furnished with a copy of the New Testa- 
ment. Billy received his, joined his regiment, went to the 
seat of war, and for months we heard nothing from him. 
In the bloody and terrible conflict of Shiloh, in the month 
of April last, Billy, the drummer-boy, was dangerously 
wounded. He was put upon a cot, placed upon a govern- 
ment transport, and brought down to Cairo, with other 
wounded soldiers. Here a kind Providence seemed to 
watch over the boy. His youth, his manly fortitude, and 
his interesting appearance, enlisted the sympathies of 
strangers, and, instead of being sent to the hospital, he 
was taken upon his cot to the cars and carried to Dixon, 

whence he was sent directly to his home at L . On 

his way from Pittsburg Landing he contracted a disease 
which would, I think, of itself have soon terminated his 
brief life. Immediately upon his arrival home, I was called 
to visit him professionally. The news of his arrival had 
drawn to the house three or four of our pious women, who 
went to minister to his wants. I saw^ at once that he must 
soon die, and said to him, — 

"Billy, I will do all I can for you. I will give you 
medicine, but it will, I fear, do you no good. You proba- 
bly have but a very short time to live." 

He received the announcement with a composure which 
astonished us all. It was evidently not the result of stu- 
pidity or indifference. A pleasant smile was upon his 
countenance, and there was something about him which 
those of us who had known him before his enlistment 
failed to comprehend. After a few moments' silence, he 
looked up to me, and said, pleasantly, — 

"Doctor, I bless God that I am not afraid to die. Jesus 
is my Saviour. You have been very kind to me, doctor, 
and now I have one favor to ask. It is the last request I 



1G4 MEMOllIA^OF THE AVAR. 

shall ever make of you. Kneel right down here, by my 
bed, and pray for me." 

I was astonished. I never supposed the boy knew what 
prayer meant, and wondered where he had leai-ned. I was 
never so perplexed before. 

"Billy," I replied, "1 cannot do that. I try sometimes 
to pray for myself, but I have never in my life prayed 
audibly in public. You must excuse me." 

"Doctor, I cannot. You can, — you must pray with me." 

"But, Billy, I cannot. I will do this, however. We 
will get a Bible, and I will read to you a chapter, — some 
of the words of the Saviour. Then we will all kneel 
around your bed, and one of these good women will lead 
us in prayer." 

He assented, though with great reluctance. He was 
evidently not satisfied. The one great desire of his heart 
seemed to be that I should offer the prayer. After a 
moment's silence he said to me, — 

" Turn me upon my side, doctor, if you please, that I 
may lie with my face toward you as you read." 

As gently as I could, I turned him upon his side. A 
large Bible was then brought and laid before him upon the 
bed. In an instant he threw his attenuated arms around 
it, and pressed it to his heart with all his remaining 
strength. It seemed as if he could not let it go. I 
remembered that Testament, and I knew then how Billy 
had come to love his Bible, and how he had learned to 
13ray. God seemed to direct me what to read to this dying- 
boy. I opened at one of those chapters in John's Gospel 
so full of precious words, and read it, with a faltering 
voice, I assure you. Billy kept the Bible firmly clasped in 
his arms, while I was reading. As soon as the chapter was 
finished, we all kneeled around his bed, while one of the 
women offered one of the most appropriate and touching 



THE DOCTOPv's YOUTHFUL PATIENT. 165 

prayers I ever heard. There were no unmoistened eyes there 
as we rose fi-om oar knees. Then I bade Billy good-by, 
promising to call and see him in the morning, if he was 
then alive. Just as I was leaving the room, one of the 
women present touched me on the shoulder, and said, — 

" Doctor, Billy wishes to see you a moment." 

I went back. As soon as I was near enough, he caught 
my hands in his, and said, — 

"Doctor, I cannot be denied. You must, — you must 
pray with me." 

I could resist no longer; and so, sinking down on my 
knees beside him, in faltering accents and as best I could, 
I commended that poor, dying boy to the Friend of sinners. 
Perhaps the petition was not rejected. I am not much 
given to the melting mood, but I am free to say that I 
wept then as I never wept before. Billy was satisfied. 
He grasped my hand, and thanked me as I rose from my 
knees. We then bade each other good-by a second time, 
and parted to meet no more in this world. Within the 
next hour he died a most triumphant and happy death, 
and doubtless now stands before the throne with 

" A crown upon his forehead, 
A harp within his hands." 

Such was my friend's story. Comment could add noth- 
ing to its point ; and, for some moments after its conclu- 
sion, the silence was unbroken by a single word from the 
little group of attentive listeners. Was there one there 
who did not breathe the prayer, "Let me die the death of 
the righteous, and let my last end be like his " ? ^ I hope 
not. 

1 Numbers xii. 3. 



1G6 MEMORIAL^ OF THE WAR. 



IX. SURELY I COME QUICKLY. 

I have seen (writes the Rev. Mr. Alvord from the army) 
a Testament pierced with a minie ball which also pierced 
the owner's heart. Opening the book, I found name and 
date, and pencilling which seemed to indicate premonition. 
On one of the fly-leaves he had commenced as follows : — 

" With tearful eyes I think I see " — 

and then, as if he had recollected the verse, he began again, 
just below, — 

" With tearful eyes I look around ; 
Life seems a dark and stormy sea; 
Yet 'midst the gloom I hear a sound, 
A heavenly whisper, — Come to me." 

I followed the bullet, and the first passage struck was, 
" Surely, I come quickly, Amen : even so, come. Lord 
Jesus." The journey of the messenger from that passage 
to the life of the poor fellow was very short. The " whis- 
per" of the herald was scarcely heard ere he was in eter- 
nity. The mutilated Testament, with its touching record, 
will be sent home to mourning friends. 



X. 



The chaplain of the Eighty-first Illinois Regiment vouches 
for the truthfulness of the scene described below. 

Tlie Eighty-third Illinois was stationed at Fort Donel- 
son at the time of the last battle there, and is well known 
for having repulsed an attack of some six thousand of the 
enemy. A Christian youth, named Adams, belonged to 



THE student's last WISHES. 167 

this regiment and was severely wounded in the engage- 
ment. He afterwards lay wasting away day by day in 
the hospital. lie had enlisted, while he was a member of 
college, with a number of others, to fight the battles of 
freedom. One day when he was extremely weak, he asked 
the physician how long he would probably live. 

"ISTot long," was the reply; "you are near your end." 

"Is it so," he demanded; and was told, "Yes, it is indeed 
so." 

Making then an almost superhuman effort, he raised his 
body, with the help of his companions, many of whom 
were standing around his cot, and, stretching forth his ema- 
ciated arms, with a voice faint, but firm, he articulated the 
request, "ISTow come; give three cheers for the flag of our 
Union." 

His fellow-soldiers gave them with a will and an 
emphasis such as only our brave boys know how to exhibit, 
and then awaited his further wishes. 

Thus far we have seen in him the traits only of the 
dying patriot and hero. But he was more than that. The 
dear fellow added then the request, "Now boys, let one of 
you kneel down and pray." They dropped on their knees. 
A Christian comrade led them in prayer. While he was 
performing the solemn act, the spirit of young Adams, joyful 
and triumphant, as in a chariot of glory, took its flight 
home ! 

Such a mode of dying becomes -a soldier who is a Chris- 
tian as w^ell as a hero.- Such is the power which the religion 
of Jesus gives to the believer. 



1G8 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 



XI. THE FAVORITE IIYMX. 



A workman in Christ's vineyard, who has clone much for 
our sick and wounded soldiers at Washington, writes to a 
friend as follows : — 

The hundred hymn-books you sent me will be very use- 
ful, and, I think, will^do much good. There is one hymn 
in the book that I can never forget if I live a thousand 
years. It is the sixty-third, beginning 

" One sweetly solemn thought." 

I had held by the bedside of a dying soldier several 
prayer-meetings; it was at the Patent Office Hospital, and 
the soldiers would gather round the bedside of this inter- 
esting Christian, and we would pray with him and them, 
read to them, talk a little, and sing several pieces out of 
the hymn-book. This sixty-tliird hymn was h[s fivorite, 
and he always wanted it sung. We used to sing it to the 
sweet tune of "Dennis." One evening, just as the sun was 
setting, we went in, and he wanted us to have the prayer- 
meeting. In the course of the service, I leaned over and 
asked him what we should sing. He said, "My hymn." 
We knew very Avell what that was, and sung it as far as 
the conclusion of the third verse, and there Ave had to 
stop. He actually went to "wear his starry crown," just 
as we were singing, at his request, those very words. 

Last Sunday, I -told the story to a company of soldiers 
who had just lost a companion, and there was not a teai*- 
less eye among the listeners. 

We may stand at the grave of such a patriot, and with 
trustful heart, may say, — 

« " One more absent, 
The battle done ; 
One more left lis, 
Victory won. 



ASLEEP IN" JESUS, BLESSED SLEEP. 169 

One more buried 

Baiieath the sod, 
One more standing 

Before his God. 

Lay him low, lay him low, 

Ere the morning break; 
Sorrow not, soitow not, 

He minds not heart-ache. 

He is one, he is one, 

Of that noble band. 
Who have fouglit, who have died, 

For their father-land. 

He needs no tears, 

An angel now, 
A saintly crown 

Upon his brow. 

We should not weep 

That he has gone : 
With us 'tis night. 

With him 'tis morn ! " 



XII. "ASLEEP IN JESUS, BLESSED SLEEP ! " 

Sergeant John Hanson Thompson was the son of the 
Rev. Joseph P. Thompson, D.D., of the City of New York. 
He was a youth of the finest culture, large-hearted, genial in 
his disposition, who gave himself to his country from 
motives as pure and lofty as ever actuated patriot or mar- 
tyr. He was a member of Yale College ; but, at the time 
of the alarm which aroused the country, when General 
Banks retreated down the Shenandoah valley before the 
overwhelming force of Stonewall Jackson, in May, 1862, 
the student laid aside .his books and enlisted as a private 
in the Twenty-second New York Regiment. On the ex- 
piration of the three months for which he went out first, he 

15 



170 MEMORIALS ^ THE WAR. 

re-enlisted for three years as sergeant in the Ilundrecl and 
eleventh New York. He served in this capacity until 
March, 1863, when, worn out by exposure and fatigue, he 
died at North Mountain, in Virginia, at the age of twenty. 
During this brief career, he displayed not only the highest 
qualities of the soldier, but a social and Christian spirit 
which made him the darling of his regiment. Nothing 
can exceed the touching interest of the narrative of his 
death.i 

In the last letter that the young soldier wrote, after 
speaking of the arrival of his regiment at North Mountain, 
he says, — 

" A hard march of ten miles, in mud and water ; — a 
hard one for me at least, as I was not fully in strength; but 
it did me good, I am sure." 

His captain and the surgeon had attempted to dissuade 
him from marching ; but he insisted that he would go with 
bis men. The men endeavored to relieve him of his knap- 
sack, but he insisted that a sergeant should set a good ex- 
ample to privates. "I never saw," said one of*them, "such 
courage and energy as the sergeant showed. We all 
thought he was not equal to the march ; but he would not 
be relieved. He said that he must be a soldier^ and do all 
his duty for his country." 

He had just been advised that his promotion to a lieu- 
tenancy was determined upon by the colonel — "Well," 
said he to his informant, " if a commission comes to me, of 
course, I shall not object; but I do not aspire to it." And 
to another he remarked, that "he had enlisted with a 
determination to do anything for his country; and he 
sometimes felt that he could serve it better as he was, than 

1 It was not my iutention to quote from a book so well known ; but the account 
of this last scene in the Sergeant's Memorial., the father's beautiful tribute to 
his sou's memory, must form an exception to the rule. 



ASLEEP IN JESUS, BLESSED SLEEP. 171 

in some higher office, with more temptations to consult his 
own ease." 

On the day after the weary march to North Mountain, 
he insisted upon taking his regular turn on picket duty, 
and for this purpose went out several miles from camp. 
A snow-storm came up in which he passed the night. The 
next morning, Monday, he barely dragged himself back to 
camp, and sank down in bis tent, with severe symptoms of 
typhoid pneumonia. Tbe surgeon was absent, and there 
was no hospital. But after two days, he was removed in 
an ambulance to a private house, where he lingered until 
the night of the following Sabbath. 

The kind friends who v/aited on him there found him 
"so gentle, patient, and uncomplaining in his spirit, and so 
delicate and sensitive in his habits, that it was almost im- 
possible to render him any service. And at the same time 
he was so composed and resolute, so cheerful and hopeful, 
that it was difficult to reaUze how sick he was." 

A pious captain visited him for the sake of religious con- 
versation, Tinowing nothing of him personally. "I soon 
perceived," he says, "that I was talking with one who was 
no stranger to these things; and found him entirely at 
peace with God." 

Two of his tent-mates watched over him with brotherly 
fidelity, and one of them rej^orts from written memoranda 
the closing scene : 

"About 11 p. M., the doctor called to see him; his 
breathing was very irregular. The doctor shook his head, 
as much as to say the case was hopeless. It seemed that 
the sergeant for the first time fully realized his danger. 
He asked the doctor if he could stand under it; the doctor 
told him he could not. He then asked if it would not be 
well to telegraph to his father. He was told that the cap- 
tain had already done so. He expressed his satisfaction, 



172 MEMORIAL^F THE WAR. 

adding, ' I am so glad ; father will be sure to come to-mor- 
row.' He then looked me full in the flxce and grasped ray 
hand and said (calling my given and surname), 'Good-by.' 
A cold shudder went through my frame, as it was the first 
time I had ever stood face to face with death. He stiW 
held my hand and said, 'Send my love to my dear father 
and mother, brothers, and sisters. I hope to meet them in 
heaven.' He made a few requests concerning his personal 
effects, then prayed to God to forgive him his sins. After 
two or three short prayers, he asked Tanner to sing. He 
sang, as well as his voice would permit, a verse commen- 
cing, * Asleep in Jesus, blessed sleep ! ' 

"When he had finished, the Sergeant requested him 
to repeat it, which he did with more composure. He 
then asked some one to pray; but neither of us had 
ever made a prayer, and were silent. He made the re- 
quest again, but neither of us could say a word. He then 
prayed again himself. The captain came in soon after and 
tried to revive him ; but he kept gradually sinking until 
about a quarter past one, when he settled into a composure 
or ease, and breathed more regular but shorter, until his 
breath entij" bf left him at 1.30 a. m., March 16th, 1863." 



Servant of God, well done ! 

Rest from tliy loved employ: 
The battle fought, the victory won, 

Enter thy Master's joy. 

At midnight came the cry, 
" To meet th}^ God prepai*e ! " 

He woke — and caught his Captain's eye; 
Then, strong in faith and prayer, 

His spirit with a bound 

Left its encumbering clay; 
His tent, at sunrise, on the ground 

A darkened ruin lay. 



THE LOWLY EXALTED. 175 

Soldier of Christ, well done ! 

Praise be thy new employ ; 
And while eternal ages run, 

Best in thy Saviour's joy. 



XIII. THE LOWLY EXALTED. 

In September, 1862 (says a missionary in tbe army), I 
visited the batttle-field of Antietam. Thousands of poor 
soldiers were still lying as they fell upon that field of blood. 
Having occasion to procure water from a farm-yard, I 
noticed thwe what seemed to be heaps of tattered gar- 
ments, but beneath them were the wasted bodies of men 
who had crawled thither and died. Nor were they the 
only occupants of the place, for near them were thirteen 
others, still living but desperately wounded. Having re- 
lieved their wants, I heard the sounds of distress elsewhere, 
— they came from a stable not far off. There I found 
several other men, whose condition was, if possible, more 
deplorable still. 

The one whom I approached first had his arm torn 
off by a shell. As I washed the wound, I spoke to him 
of the Good Physician, who heals forever the wounds 
that sin and Satan have made in the soul. Turning 
from him, I began to speak to another, whose face was 
covered by his hat, but there was no reply. The man 
next to him saw the mistake, and said, "You are too late 
there, sir. It is useless to speak to such a sleeper. The 
man has been dead these three days." 

I uncovered his face, and found it, alas! too true. The 
probationer had gone beyond the reach of any ministry 
for soul or body which man's power can supply. 

We then turned sadly to the other side of the stable, 
where lay a young man, twenty-three years old. His leg 

15* 



174 MEMORIALS^P THE WAR. 

had been shattered by a sliell, and roughly amputated on 
the field. The bandage had become loosened, and the 
wound had burst open, so as to cause for days the severest 
suffering. As I stooped over him-, and tried to place him 
in an easier position, I could not help exckiiming, "Poor, 
poor fellow! yours is indeed a sad lot; alone here, friend- 
less and dying ! " 

But what was my surprise, when, looking up with a 
sweet smile, he said, "My case is not so bad, sir, as it 
might be. The man there (he pointed to the spot), has 
been dead these three days." 

"What!" I exclaimed. "Have you no cpmplaint to 
utter?" 

"Of what should I complain?" he said almost reproach- 
fully. " Why, sir, I am happier than a prince. I would not 
change my place for his, even here." 

"And what makes you so happy?" I asked. 

"I have the presence of Christ," he replied. "I love 
him who showed his love for me by being born in a man- 
ger. If I suffer, I remember that he suffered more for me 
than I suffer now." 

I spoke to him of his earlier days, and learned something of 
his history. He had not fled to the Refuge in the hour of 
distress for the first time. He had been led to put his trust 
in the Redeemer in his days of health and prosperity. He 
could add his confession to that of "the goodly company" 
of saints and martyrs who testify that God is flxithful to 
those who truly seek his salvation, and imparts to them 
the supports of his gi-ace more and more fully as earthly 
props fail and pass away. 

" Look here, Adair," I said to my companion, in a tone 
of exultation. " Come and see a prince upon his throne ! " 

We had proof before us that the apostle means to allow 
of no exception when he says, " In everything by prayer 



WAITING FOR DAY-BREAK. 175 

and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be 
made known unto God." ^ 

We knelt down at the side of the pain-stricken one, and 
as our tears flowed, offered up thanksgivings at the remem- 
brance of Him who had loved this poor soldier, and wasl!ed 
him from his sins in his own blood, and made him a king 
and priest unto God, who could rejoice though his body 
was wracked with pain, and a scene of such wretchedness 
lay around him. 



XIV. WAITING FOR DAYBREAK. 

The sermon at my funeral (said a dying soldier), should 
be from Solomon's words: — " Until the day break, and 
the shadows flee away."^ He chose that text not so much 
for his own sake, as for others. 

When the present struggle (said the preacher^ on that 
occasion) shall be over, and it takes its place among the 
sternest and sublimest convulsions by which the. powers of 
darkness have ever tried to overthrow or hinder the estab- 
lishment of the kingdom of righteousness and of peace, 
the costly offerings which praying fathers and mothers 
have laid upon the altar, the setting up the walls in the 
blood of the first-born and fairest of our sons, all that has 
been done and suffered in the awful baptism of fire 
through which we are passing, — it will not seem, then, to 
have been too much. ^ 

Lieutenant Edgar M. Newcomb was the son of such 

1 Philippians iv. G. 

2 Solomon's Song li. 17. 

3 The sermon was preached by Key. J. O. Means, of Roxbury, Mass., in 
the Park Street Church, Boston. The writer is indebted to this discourse 
(printed but not published) for the material of the present sketch. The synopsis 
is longer than usual, but not every soldier who may have deserved as -much has 
had the lesson of his life so well recorded. 



176 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

parents, and the offering up of his life for his country was 
one of the "costly sacrifices," respecting which we hesi- 
tate not to pray that if it be possible God may be 
pleased not to require them at our hands. He was born 
in 1840, trained in the Grammar and Latin Schools of Bos- 
ton, entered the college at Cambridge, and was graduated 
there in 1860. It had been his purpose to preach the gos- 
j:)el, but ill-health compelled him to relinquish that hope. 
He went abroad and travelled in England and France. 

Shortly after his return, the rebellion broke out; and 
though he had just entered on mercantile pursuits, he 
recognized at once the voice of God in the call of the 
government for volunteers, tore himself away from the 
allurements of gain and the charms of home, and entered 
the ranks of the army as a common soldier. " He went," 
says one who knew him, " against all the impulses of a ten- 
der and beautiful nature, in crucifixion of his peaceful and 
loving spirit, from the simple and strong impulses of 
Christian duty. Putting aside his repugnance to that 
which might be deemed hardening in the life of camps, ;a 
man of womanly purity and refinement, blushing at the 
suggestion of anything that would pollute his virtue, as 
quickly as at anything that would stain his honor, — with an 
instinctive and irrepressible sense of what right demanded, 
and with a conscientious and eager readiness to do her 
behests, he sprang forward with alacrity, as a child of his 
country and of his God." 

And what did this shrinking youth become amid the 
actualities of war? "No braver officer or man," says his 
captain, "ever stood upon a battle-field than Lieutenant 
Edgar M. Nevvcomb." "Sometimes," says another, "he 
spoke in his letters 'of the hardships of the poor fellows' 
around him ; but he never grumbled about his own flire or 
condition J and, in fact, this patient, cheerful endurance 



WAITING POR DAYBEEAK. 177 

kept him not only in health, but built up his youthful per- 
son into the stalwart, sinewy, muscular form of an athletic 
man." 

He felt, at length, the enthusiasm of a genuine soldier, 
and looked upon the fame of his regiment (which he 
did so much to promote) as a part of himself. Speaking 
of the march to the Kappahannock, on the eve of the fatal 
crossing^ he wrote, " Though we were the last regiment 
of the brigade and division on the march, the latter had 
DO sooner halted than we passed them all except the 
Sixth Michigan, and formed in line on the bluff overlook- 
ing the river. Lieutenant-Colonel Devereux could neither 
walk or ride ; otherwise, we flatter ourselves that we should 
have been the first. Didn't we feel proud as we moved 
along past the regiments, which looked on us with a kind 
of awe, and whispered, " The Nineteenth Massachusetts." 
The Seventh Michigan took the boats, and filed into them, 
twenty in a boat, and without a moment's delay poled 
over the river amid a hail of bullets and the cheers of 
thousands of soldiers who crowded the bluff. Never in 
my life did I feel as I did when the first boat grounded on 
the opposite shore, and its noble crew leaped out and 
climbed the bank. Alas ! the first man who landed fell in 
the street, mortally wounded. As soon as the boats came 
back we rushed into them and crossed and ran up the bank. 
Immediately we deployed as skirmishers, and, climbing the 
fences, and filing through the back gardens, entered the 
houses." 

The eventful months pass away, and we enter the sanc- 
tuary where the youthful soldier of Christ was trained for 
the conflict which he has now finished. His sword and 
cap, scarred and riddled with bullets, are laid among the 

1 From Fredericksburg, to attack the rebels ou the other side of the river. 



178 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

flowers on his coffin, and the tattered flags of the Nine- 
teenth Regiment, brought down from the State House, are 
crossed behind it. The church is filled with mourners 
who listen to the story of his brief, instructive life. 

He had shared in all the fourteen battles and skirmishes 
of his regiment, and in the desperate forlorn hope of the 
passage of the Rappahannock, safe and untouched. But 
in the fight of December thirteenth, after the return to 
Fredericksburg, he received a mortal wound. 

"The ball," says the captain, "struck the brass band of 
his sword, passed through the left leg and grazed the right. 
He was wounded while holding the American flag high 
above his head, having just given up the State colors. 
The color-sergeants had been shot down one after another, 
when Edgar sprang forward and picked up both flags, 
holding one in each hand, and called upon the men to 
stand by the colors." In this posture, waving the flag and 
cheering the men, after bullets had passed through his hat 
and blanket and coat and canteen, he was struck with a 
shot which tore his limbs in pieces. He hngered for a 
week in the greatest suffering, and died on Saturday, the 
thirtieth of December, 1862. 

When his time came, he was prepared for it. He had 
been faithful and active as a Christian in the camp. He 
frequently preached, and held prayer-meetings, and per- 
formed such religious services that some of the pious chap- 
lains supposed that he belonged to their number. In his 
last hours he earnestly commended the Saviour in whom 
he trusted to officers, soldiers, and friends who called to 
see him. "It never seemed before to me so great and 
noble a thing to die. I had hoped to preach the gospel, 
but I shall serve my country better in heaven." 

He sent messages to the absent ones. "Tell mother I 
could not die in a holier cause, or more happy." — ^'It is uU 



WAITING FOR DAYBREAK. 179 

light ahead/' — "Prepare to meet me in heaven."— "I am 
only going to a different sphere of labor, and shall be as 
near you as ever." — " To live is Christ and to die is gain." 

He asked that no words of praise should be put on his 
tomb-stone, but simply, " Lieutenant Edgar M. Newcomb, 
of the Nineteenth Massachusetts." His last thoughts were 
not for himself, but the welfare of mankind. The property 
at his disposal he devised equally to the Societies for Home 
and for Foreign Missions. 

His last letter was written on Saturday morning, and 
was in his pocket when he fell. The last sentence in that 
letter was, " C. thinks I owe my present safety to the 
prayers of my friends. I have often thought the same ; 
and when I consider the temptations of this most trying 
life, my protection from sin is more marvellous than from 
wounds and death. Good-by." 

Yes, " Until the daybreak and the shadows flee away ! " 

" How calm and blest 
The dead now rest, 

Who in the Lord departed; 
All their works do follow them, 

Yea, they sleep glad-hearted. 

"Oh! blessed Kock! 
Leave grant thy flock 

To see thy Sabbath morning; 
Strife and pain wiU all be past, 
When that day is dawning." 



CHAPTER YII. 

OUR DEPENDENCE ON GOD FOR SUCCESS. 



I. THE president's JOURNEY TO WASHINGTON. 

On the eleventh of February, 1861, Mr. Lincoln left 
Sprhigfield, Illinois, to proceed to Washington to be inau- 
gurated as President of the United States, on the fourth 
of March following. The first words clothed with any- 
thing like official significance, addressed by him to the 
country after his election, were those which he uttered on 
this journey to the capital. Those who may read those 
words in future times can form but a faint idea of the 
relief and encouragement which they brought to anxious 
hearts in the hour when clouds of distrust and fear, of civil 
discord and anarchy so darkened our sky. 

It is the part of true statesmanship, as well as of piety, 
to feel at all times that "Except the Lord build the house, 
they labor in vain that build it ; except the Lord keep the 
city, the watchman waketh but in vain."^ The Presi- 
dent's avowal of this truth, in terms so unreserved and 
earnest, as he approached the great work allotted to him, 
reassured the Christian heart of the nation, and inspired 
ns with hope* in the wisdom and success of his administra- 
tion. 

It adds to the suggestive import of his language, under 
such circumstances, to remember that the President elect 
w^as pursuing his way to tjje seat of government at that 

1 Psalm cxxvii. 1, 

180 



THE president's JOtJElSrEY TO WASHINGTON. 181 

very time, through a band of hired assassins, who were 
watching, as he went from city to city, for an opportunity 
to slay him. 

The train which was to bear him away started at an 
early hour in the morning; but more than a thousand peo- 
ple had collected at the station to bid adieu to their friend 
and neighbor. After shaking hands with his more inti- 
mate friends, he addressed the crowd as follows : — 

"My Friends: — No one not in my position can appre- 
ciate the sadness I feel at this parting. To this people I 
owe all that I am. Here I have lived more than a quarter 
of a century ; here my children were born, and here one 
of them lies buried. I know not how soon I shall see you 
all again. A duty devolves upon me which is perhaps 
greater than that which has devolved upon any other man 
since the days of Washington. He never would have suc- 
ceeded except for the aid of divine Providence, upon which 
he at all times relied. I feel that I cannot succeed without 
the same divine aid which sustained him, and on the same 
Almighty Being I place my reliance for support. I hope 
you, my friends, will all pray that I may receive that 
divine assistance, without which I cannot succeed, but 
■with which success is certain. I bid you all an affectionate 
farewell." 

Expressions of approbation, tearful greetings, and cries 
of " We will pray for you," followed the delivery of these 
remarks. During the speech Mr. Lincoln betrayed much 
emotion, and the crowd was affected to tears. 

At Columbus, Ohio, he remarked in the same strain, — 

" I cannot but know, what you all know, that without a 
public name, perhaps without a reason why I should have 
such a name, there has fallen upon me a task such as did 
not rest even upon the Father of his country ; and, so feel- 
ing, I cannot but hope for the support without which it 

16 



182 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

will be impossible for me to perform that great task. I 
turn and look to the American people, and to that God 
who has never forsaken them." 

At another point of his progress, Steubenville, in the 
same State, Mr. Lincoln further said, — 

"I fear that the great confidence which seems to exist 
in my ability is unfounded ; indeed, I am sure it is, encom- 
passed as I am by such vast difficulties. I can only say 
nothing shall be wanting on my part, and I hope to be sus- 
tained by the American people and the blessing *of God, 
who alone can prosper my endeavors." 



II. THE PRATER AT FORT SUMTER. 

During the Christmas night of December 1860, Major 
Anderson, commandant at the harbor of Charleston, S. C, 
with his little garrison of only sixty effective men, passed 
stealthily from Fort Moultrie to Fort Sumter. This unex- 
pected movement was the spark which electrified the 
nation. The storm of civil war might not burst at once, 
but it was seen now to be inevitable. Here was the 
opening act of the great drama which was to end in the 
triumph of law, civilization, and liberty, or in the subver- 
sion of the republic, and the reign of anarchy, barbarism, 
and slavery. Major Anderson deeply felt the responsi- 
bility and importance of the step he had taken. He gave 
expression to that feeling by a simple but significant act. 

The Hag which he had brought from Moultrie was to be 
thrown to the breeze from Sumter. The ceremony was 
fixed for twelve o'clock, the noon of December twenty- 
seventh. The commander assembled his little force and 
the workmen employed on the fortifications, at the foot of 
the flag-staff. His own heart led him naturally to God, as 



THE PRAYER AT FORT SUMTEB. 183 

now the only efficient helper. He was anxious to bring 
those with him into sympathy with himself in this critical 
hour. The chaplain stood forth and stated the object of 
the service. The flag which they were there to defend as 
the symbol of the national unity and life was then attached 
to a cord, and Major Anderson, taking the ends in his 
hands, knelt down, while the oflicers and men, with heads 
uncovered, gathered around him. The chaplain then 
prayed. He commended the little band, their cause, and 
the country, to God, the arbiter of nations. His petitions, 
his tones, bespoke the earnestness of one who felt that if 
saved it must be because man's extremity is God's opportu- 
nity. As the fervent, heaven-winged words of tlie speaker 
ceased, and the men responded a hearty "amen," the com- 
mander hauled up the flag to the top of the staff. The 
band saluted it with " Hail Columbia," the accents of sup- 
plication gave place to those of enthusiasm, and cheers 
after cheers broke from the lips of all present. 

Just at that moment, a boat arrived from Charleston, and 
the traitors whom it brought heard in those shouts the 
vows of men who resolved in their hearts that the old flag: 
should suffer no dishonor while it remained in their hands. 
History will record how well they kept those vows during 
the four weary months they were imprisoned there without 
succor from the government, and the two fearful days in 
which the starved garrison held out against the concen- 
tric fire of so many batteries. 

A gifted writer^ has well represented the spirit of the 
transaction : — 

" Who doth that flag defy, — 
We challenge as our foe; 
Wlio will not foi- it die, 
Out from us he must go ! 

1 The late Dr. Bethuue, of IS^ew York. 



184 MEMORIES OF THE WAR. 

So let them understand ; 
Who that dear flag disclaim 
Which won their father's fame, 
We brand with endless shame ; 
God for our native land. 

" Our native land ! to thee 
In one united vow, 
To keep thee strong and free 
And glorious as now — 
We pledge each heart and hand; 
By the blood our fathers shed, 
By the ashes of our dead, 
By the sacred soil we tread, 
God for our native land." 



III. AN ALTAR IN THE TENT. 

The victories of General Burnside have been among the 
most important of the war. ISTo one has been more enter- 
prising or uniformly successful than he. It is well known 
that where he pitches a tent, there he erects an altar, and 
prayer and worship are among the daily occupations. 
When he was planning his expedition to Newbern and 
Koanoke, "It was my fortune," says Bishop Clarke, of 
Rhode Island, " to occupy the same room with him in 
Washington , and every morning and every evening, we 
used to kneel down together, and pray for the blessing of 
God on his solemn work." 

That blessing ensures success, and without it all man's 
efforts may be baffled. That blessing this noble commander 
seeks, and desires that others should seek for him. There 
is not a right-thinking man in the land who does not 
respect him for that trait of character, and feel the more 
confidence in him, or any one like him, for such reliance 
on the strength of the Mighty One. 



THE PUEITAN SPIRIT. 185 



IV. THE PUEITAN SPIRIT. 



The religious element has always been acknowledged as 
a great power in military success. The more intelligent 
that principle is, the more efficient it must be in securing 
this result. There is every reason, natural as well as 
rational, why those who hold their lives in their hand 
should acknowledge the God of battles, and pray for them- 
selves and their country in the midst of danger. The sim- 
plest expression of the relations of "praying and fighting" 
was, perhaps, the blunt order of the Puritan chief: "Put 
your trust in God and keep your powder dry." Cromwell 
and his praying Puritans were dangerous men to meet in 
battle. The " sword of the Lord and of Gideon," was ex- 
ceeding sharp, tempered as it was with hourly prayers.^ 
The Cavaliers affected to despise, but feared the "cant" of 
the Roundheads, and imitated them as they repeated their 
Collects for church and King. "O Lord," said one of 
them, "if I forget Thee, as in the press of battle I may, do 
not thou forget me." 

There is something sublime in the spectacle of Gustavus 
Adolphus and his vast army, on the eve of the battle of 
Lutzen, in which he fell, praying on bended knee, and then 
chanting, — 

" Be of good cheer; your cause belongs 
To Him who can avenge your wrongs ; 
Leave it to Him, our Lord." 

The king fell, but the battle was gloriously won. 

1 "That which chiefly distinguished the army of Cromwell," says Macaulay, 
" from other armies was the austere morality and the fear of God which per- 
vaded then- ranks." Henco, though " often surrounded by difficulties, sometimes 
contending against threefold odds, they not only never failed to conquer, but 
never failed to destroy and break in pieces whatever force was opposed to them. 
16 * 



186 MEMORIAL|pOF THE WAR. 

And so, unless we are untrue to our better nature, it 
must ever be. Before going into battle the foolish, wicked, 
unmeaning oath is silent. With the bracing of the nerves, 
there goes up a silent prayer for strength and valor and 
deliverance. The wounded pray to be saved from death ; 
the dying recall the words of old petitions learned in tlieir 
childhood, and in these broken accents commit their souls 
to God. 

On the battle-field of Gettysburg, where the tnorale of 
the Northern troops was put to the severest test, were 
found, broad-strewn. Bibles and prayer-books. Carried in 
coat-bosoms or pockets, they came forth in the bitter 
moment, a solace to the wounded and dying, and a proof 
that soldiers pray as well as fight. 

All honor and thanks to the worthy chaplains who foster 
this noble spirit, and to the philanthropic men who care 
for the soldier's interest at home, taking with them, in 
timely visits on battle-fields, and in crowded hospitals, 
comforts for the poor sufi:ering mortal bodies, and holy 
books and words of prayer for the well-being of the immor- 
tal souls.^ 

V. A REGIMENT ON" THEIR KNEES. 

A letter, written from our army while in ^^ursuit of the 
rebels in Maryland, says, — 

The troops march with alacrity, and seem in good spirits. 
Last evening, I beheld a sight that might well remind one 
of a scene in Cromwell's camp; — it was that of a whole 
company attached to a Philadelphia regiment, kneeling 

They at length came to regard the day of battle as a day of certain triumpli, and 
inarched against tlie most renowned battalions of Europe with disdainful con- 
fidence." Never be ashamed of the Furitan spirit. 

1 Mostly an extract, but at this moment I have lost the reference. 



NATIONAL FAST IN THE AKMY. 187 

upon the ground with every mark of reverence, at the 
hour of then- worship. 

They had just bivouacked for the night after a weary 
and dusty march. It was in a grove of majestic trees, 
whick resounded with strains of sacred music and the 
voice of prayer intermingled. The bright beams of a 
full moon fell upon the forms of the prostrate soldiers 
through the branches. It seemed at the moment like a 
symbol of the beaming face of Deity, giving answers of 
peace to suppliants for his grace and protection. Some en- 
tire companies in the army are made up of men who 
belong to churches. 

The impression was unique, and no description can con- 
vey it to another. 



YI. NATIONAL FAST IN THE AEMY. 

A joint committee of both Houses of Congress waited 
on the President and requested him "to recommend a day 
of public humiliation, prayer and fasting, to be observed 
by the people of the United States with religious solem- 
nities, and the offering of fervent supplications to Almighty 
God for the safety and welfare of these States, his blessing 
on their armies, and a speedy restoration of peace." 

The President, in compliance with this request, ap- 
pointed the last Thursday in September, 1861, as a day in 
which we should "recognize the hand of God in this terri- 
ble visitation, and in sorrowful remembrance of our own 
faults and crimes as a nation, and as individuals, humble 
ourselves before him, and pray for his mercy, — pray that 
we may be spared further punishment, though most justly 
deserved ; that our arms may be blessed and made 'effec- 
tual for the reestablishmeut of law and order and peace, 



188 MEMORI-^ OF THE WAR. 

throughout the wide extent of our country; and that the 
boon of civil and religious liberty, earned under his guid- 
ance, may be restored in all its original excellence." 

It may be worth while to record an example of the 
manner in which this fast was kept in the army, at that 
critical moment in the prosecution of the war. A corre- 
spondent of the " Traveller " thus describes its observance in 
General Banks's Division, then stationed on the Upper 
Potomac : — 

Yesterday, the fast-day appointed by the President was 
observed in this Division in a marked method. All drill 
was omitted of course. Public services were held in a rare 
manner. In accordance with a general order, all the regi- 
ments in the immediate locality assembled in a beautiful 
field at the entrance of Darnestown village, with full 
bands, and the artillery and cavalry. The Major-General, 
Brigadiers, and other high officers, attended in full uniform. 
A march, varying from a very short distance to a mile and 
a half, brought all together, when the infantry formed in 
mass, flanked by artillery and cavalry. 

Six chaplains officiated. Assistant Adjutant-General 
Drake read the General's order. Chaplain Gaylord, of the 
Twelfth Massachusetts, read the President's Proclamation 
in a most impressive manner. Chaplain Reed, of the 
Thirtieth Pennsylvania, offered the opening prayer. Chap- 
lain Sewall, of the Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania, read selec- 
tions of Scripture, and the hymn, 

" My country, 'tis of thee." 

Chaplain Phillips, of the Ninth ISTew York, offered prayer. 
Chaplain Quint, of the Second Massachusetts, read the 
Army Hymn, and also made the address of the day; and 
Chaplain Lasher, of the Fifth Connecticut, offered the con- 



THE AEMY HYMN. 189 

eluding prayer, and, after the Doxology, pronounced the 
Benediction. 

The grand mass of soldiery, as brigade after brigade 
took their places in perfect order ; the great number of 
State and National banners floating in the breeze; the 
respect of the men, with the devoutness of many, and 
especially the majestic music of the united bands pouring 
out "America" and "Old Hundred," in which blended a 
multitude of voices, made it a scene long to be remembered. 
The author of the "Army Hymn" has never yet heard his 
own poem sung in all its majesty. He never will till he 
hears it from thousands upon thousands of men in active 
service, waiting impatiently for the order to advance to 
victory, with the sunlight playing upon sabres of dragoons, 
on the pieces of artillery caps, and on a forest of bayonets. 



VII. THE ARMY HYMN". 

After the allusion to this noble lyric in the last paragraph, 
the reader may be pleased to read it again in this connec- 
tion. The hymn became popular at once ; and not least 
because the earnest moral tone which pervades it found 
its echo in every patriotic heart. 

The author added the last verse but one when tlie 
President's Proclamation of Emancipation went into eff*ect, 
on the first of January, 1863. 



Lord of Hosts! Almighty King! 
Behold the sacrifice we bring! 
To every arm thy strength impart, 
Thy spirit shed through every heart ! 



190 MEMOR^p-S OF THE WAR. 

Wake in our breasts the living fires, 
The holy faith that warmed our sires; 
Thy hand hath made our Nation free ; 
To die for her is serving thee. 

Be thou a pillared flame to show 
The midnight snare, the silent foe; 
And when the battle thunders loud, 
Still guide us in its moving cloud. 

God of all nations ! sovereign Lord ! 
In thy dread name we draw the sword. 
We lift the starry flag on high 
That fills with light our stoi'my sky. 

No more its flaming emblems wave, 
To bar from hope the trembling slave; 
No more its radiant glories shine 
To blast with woe one child of thine ! 

From treason's rent, from murder's stain. 
Guard thou its folds till Peace shall reign, 
Till fort and field, till shore and sea, 
Join our loud anthem, Pkaise to thee ! 



VIII. GENERAL ANDERSON IN THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. 

General Anderson, the hero of Fort Sumter, on the in- 
vitation of a Christian friend, visited a German Sunday- 
school in Cincinnati, Ohio. The golden words which he 
spoke to the members of the school on that occasion 
should be treasured up in the hearts of all the children and 
youth of the land. 

My dear friends and children (said he), I did not expect, 
when I came here, to be asked to address you. It may be 
well, perhaps, for me to say a few words. I have been 
placed, providentially, in a situation which has turned the 
attention of the country to me and to my little band. But 
I would not have you misunderstand me or my position. 



GENERAL ANDERSOIT IN THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. 191 

If I have been led wonderfully through many and great 
perils, I wish you to ascribe it to the right causes. No 
unaided power of man, no skill or bravery of our own, 
could have saved me and my companions. I am not 
ashamed, my young friends, to declare the truth. I say 
openly, that no event, no transaction of any interest or im- 
portance to our cause, took place while I was in Fort 
Sumter, without my looking, to God in the morning of 
each day for his blessing on us. I besought him to give 
me a spirit of wisdom to learn and obey his will. I 
besought him to give me strength of purpose and energy 
to perform my duty to him, and to my country. None 
of the credit, therefore, of what was done belongs to me. 
It belongs to him who cares for us and who, if we commit 
our ways to him, will give to us all needful success. 

Before I left Fort Sumter, I was admonished that I 
might be in more danger from my friends than I had been 
from enemies. Some who wished well to me wrote that 
I must be on my guard, and not be spoiled by flattery. 
The advice was well timed ; but I trust God has saved me 
from that danger. I say again, I do not feel that I am 
to take to myself the least credit for what has been done. 
It was God who put it into my heart to decide and act as 
I did. 

Therefore, my young friends, I would urge upon all of 
you to look to God in the transactions of life you may be 
called on to perform. Each individual has transactions to 
perform as momentous to him as what I have performed is 
to me. Each one of you has to gain or lose for himself 
the true end of his being here and hereafter. The destiny 
of each one depends, under God, on his own actions. I 
would have you all put your trust in God. Do that with 
a humble heart, and you will be blessed in this life and 



192 MEMORIES OF THE WAR. 

prepared for everlasting blessedness in that which is to 
come. I can say no more. 



IX. PRAY FOR THE PRESIDENT. 

It is impossible to read the following words of the chief 
magistrate of the country and not be convinced that they 
are prompted by the real feelings of his heart. It is evi- 
dent that the cares of office have not diminished his sense 
of the difficulties of his position,^ or of his need of the 
guidance and wisdom which " God giveth liberally to them 
that ask him, and upbraideth not." Pray for the Presi- 
dent. 

On Saturday, October fourth, 1863, the members of a 
Synod of the Presbyterian Church, holding their annual 
session in Washington, went to the executive mansion in 
that city, and were received by the President. Tlie 
Moderator stated that the Synod wished, as a body, to 
pay to him their respects, and offi?r to him their salutations. 
Each member, he added, claimed to belong to the kingdom 
of God, and was loyal to the government. 

The President, in reply, spoke as follows: — 

"I can only say, in this case, as in so many others, that I 
am profoundly grateful for the respect given in every 
variety of form in which it can be given from the religious 
bodies of the country. I saw, upon taking my position 
here, I was going to have an administration, if an adminis- 
tration at all, of extraordinary difficulty. 

" It was, without exception, a time of the greatest diffi- 
culty this country ever saw. I was early brought to a lively 
reflection that, with nothing in my power whatever, or in 
that of others, on which I coutd rely, no undertakings of 

ibee page 180, 



FAITH AND WORKS. 193 

mine could succeed without direct assistance of the 
Ahnighty. I have often wished that I was a more devout 
man than I am; nevertheless, amid the greatest difficulties 
of my administration, when I could not see any other 
resort, I would place my whole reliance on God, knowing 
all would go well, and that he would decide for the right. 

" I thank you, gentlemen, in the name of the religious 
bodies which you represent, and in the name of our com- 
mon Father, for this expression of resj^ect. I cannot say 
more." 

The members of the Synod were then severally intro- 
duced to the President. 



X. FAITH AND WOEKS. 

An example of self-denying patriotism like the following 
deserves to be put on lasting record. In July of the pres- 
ent year, the Rev. D. B. Bradley, a self-supporting mission- 
ary of the American Missionary Association, of Bangkok, 
Siam, sent an order to the treasurer of that society, to 
pay over to the United States three hundred dollars on 
Dr. Bradley's account. This patriotic missionary writes as 
follows : — 

"I regard the war, on our part, as one of the most 
righteous that was ever waged, and I see the hand of God 
in it so distinctly, and his merciful purposes for those mill- 
ions of our enslaved brethren at the South so gloriously 
fuliiiling, that my whole heart ascends to God in prayer 
continually for our cause. And while I pray, I feel that I 
must also contribute what I can from my small resources 
to the millions of money that will yet be needed to com- 
plete the great and glorious work of our government now 

17 



194 MEMORIAL OF THE WAR. 

in hand. Please, therefore, to jiay over to the department, 
as soon as you well can, the sum above named." 

Dr. Bradley makes the fact that he has a son who is of 
age to serve in the army the occasion of this contribution ; 
though the son, not being a resident in this country, would 
be exempted from military duty. 

The Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. Chase, in acknowl- 
edging the remittance, says that this "noble expression 
of love of country in an American missionary," who, out 
of his personal earnings, "in the far-off kingdom of Siam, 
sends so considerable an amount to the Treasury" of his 
struggling country, fills him "with admiration," and inspires 
him " with confidence that a people whose sons in remote 
regions exhibit such devotion to their country cannot fail 
in the speedy suppression of a rebellion the most unpro- 
voked and the most iniquitous recorded in history." 



^ 



CHAPTER YIII. 

INCIDENTS OP THE CAMP AND BATTLE-PIELD. 

The contents of this chapter are miscellaneous. Some 
of the pieces might have been assigned to the other chap- 
ters, but were not at hand in time to be inserted there. 
Some of the incidents, also, take a wider range as to their 
import than those of the bulk of the volume. 



I. now A BODY WAS IDENTIFIED. 

The consecration of the National Cemetery at Gettys- 
burg, Pennsylvania, on the nineteenth of November, 1863, 
brought to that place many relatives of tlie slain soldiers 
who were ajixious to recover and identify the bodies of 
sons, brothers, and husbands. Among these was a beauti- 
ful lady from Harrisburg, who had been married to one of 
the Thirteenth Massachusetts Regiment shortly before the 
battle, but who had heard nothing from him or of him 
since the first day of the fight. She had gone to Balti- 
more to ascertain if he had been taken prisoner, and had 
visited the hospitals there and in other places, hoping to 
find some acquaintance of her husband who could give 
her some clew to his fate. All her efforts were unavailing. 

On the battle-field, near where the Thirteenth had fought, 
were twenty " unknown " graves, which, at her request, the 
committee of the cemetery allowed her to open. The 
earth was removed and the bodies exposed to view, one 

195 



19G ME MORI AM^ OF THE WAR. 

after another, but without lier discovering the object of 
her search. At the last moment, as she was about to turn 
away in despair from the last of the twenty graves, her 
eye caught sight of a button upon the overcoat of the 
buried soldier. She knew instantly that the remains of 
her husband were before her. In a previous battle, this 
button had been struck by a ball, and indented in a pecul- 
iar manner. The officer had promised to leave it with her 
as a memento of the danger escaped, but in the haste of 
departure had forgotten to do so; and now there it was, — • 
the only means of enabling her to discover the fate of him 
to whom she had so lately committed the hopes of her 
young life. 



n. DEEAD OP TEMPTATIOIS'. 

In an address at the Music Hall, in Boston, Mr. Wendell 
Phillips related the following instance of heroic firmness 
on the part of a soldier who felt that he had other enemies 
to fear than those of the battle-field : — 

I know a soldier in the Army of the Potomac, who was 
picked up in the streets of Philadelphia one year ago, a 
complete wreck, a confirmed inebriate, but who was, by 
the love of a sister and the charity of a Boston home, 
placed once more on his feet. 

He was at Ball's Bluff, and three times, with unloaded 
musket, charged upon the enemy. He was one of the six 
who heroically defended and brought away the body of 
the fallen leader of that bloody fight. The captain of tlie 
company to which he belonged died in his arms, receiving 
the last words of consolation from his lips. He was after- 
guards conspicuous in the conflict until the orders were 
given for each one to seek his own safety. Removing 



USE TOUR TALENTS. 197 

some of his apparel, he plunged into the inhospitable river, 
and after great exertion landed on the opposite bank, seven 
miles below the encampment. Nearly exhausted, chilled, 
half-clad, half-starved, he finally reached the camp. 

The captain of the next company to which he belonged 
kindly said to him, pouring out a glass of wine, "Let me 
give you this ; you will perish without it." 

"I thank you, sir," said the soldier, "but I would sooner 
face all the cannon of the enemy than taste that glass of 
wine." 

III. USE TOUR TALENTS. 

" And unto one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one." * 

There are many warm hearts and willing hands in the 
world, anxious, eager to do good ; yet because they have 
not the ability to do precisely what they see others perform 
in walks of usefulness, they are often discouraged, and 
sometimes idle. That each person is gifted with power to 
be useful in some way, let us illustrate by a story which is 
a true one. 

A young lady was heard to say, "I wish I could do 
something for my country; I would willingly become a 
nurse in a hospital, but I have not the physical strength. 
What can I do?" 

A friend replied, " You can sing." 

"Yes, I can sing, but what of that?" 

"Go to one of the hospitals, and sing for the soldiers." 

The idea pleased her. She accompanied a friend who 
was long used to such visits, and who introduced her by 
saying to the patients, " Here is a young lady who has 
come to sing for you." 

At the mere announcement, every face was aglow with 

1 Matthew xxv. 15. 

ir* 



198 MEMORIALIpDF THE WAR. 

animation, every eye was riveted upon her with expectant 
pleasure. Slie sang a few songs, commencing with the 
glorious " Star Spangled Banner." As the thrilling notes 
of that song rang through the apartment, one poor man, 
who had been given up by the physician as an almost 
hopeless case, raised himself in his cot, leaned' his head 
upon his hand, and drank in every note like so much nectar. 
The effect was electrical. From that moment he began to 
amend, and finally recovered. 



IV. EARLY IMPRESSIOIsrS REVIVED. 

A man was wounded on the first day of the fight at 
Shiloh, concerning whom an interesting fact was ascer- 
tained. 

He lay all Sunday night in a tent held by the rebels, on 
the ground, in the mud, without sympathy or care. During 
that long and terrible night, amid the rain and the roar of 
artillery, there came vividly back to him the text and all 
the argument of a sermon he had heard twenty years 
before. The next day, when our troops were more success- 
ful, he was rescued, cared for, and taken to St. Louis, where 
he was found by certain members of the Young Men's 
Christian Association, and treated with the tenderness 
which he so much needed in mind and body. 

The Holy Spirit brought home to his heart the impres- 
sions of that night ; and the seed, buried for twenty years, 
and apparently lost, sprang up and brought forth fruit in 
his conversion. He lived six wrecks to give testimony to 
God's goodness, and died in joy and hope. The last words 
he uttered were, " My God, my country, my mother ! " 



UNMARKED GRAVES. 199 



V. UNMARKED GRAVES. 



Among the touching sights reported by those who ex- 
plored the battle-field of Fair Oaks, in order to bury the 
dead and minister to the wounded, was the following : — 

In one j^ortion of the field, lying apart by themselves, 
were four dead soldiers. They had crept together and laid 
each a right liand upon that of his comrade, and thus died. 
A paper lay upon the breast of one of them, and a i^encil 
near by on the ground, showing what their last work had 
been. 

It is hard to think of leaving the world and having all 
trace of our fate hidden forever from those dear to us. To 
furnish the possible means of some information respecting 
them, one of the men had written on the paper, with a 
faltering hand, — 

"Four dying soldiers. Be kind enough to give us a 
decent burial." 

And then below these words were written the four names 
of the slain martyrs. We wept as we buried them together 
where they had lain ; and, placing over them a tablet with 
the names they had so touchingly bequeathed to us, we 
enclosed the grave by a little railing, and left them to their 
last long sleep. " The sea shall give up its dead," and so, 
also, shall the battle-field, billowy Avith unmarked graves, 
— unmarked save by " His eye which seeth every precious 
thing." 1 

1 Job xxviii. 10. 



200 MEM01lIALS^)F THE AVAil. 



VI. SPIKIT OF SIRE AND SON. 

The battle of Lexington was fought on the nineteenth 
of April, 1775, and the first Massachusetts volunteers were 
mobbed on the same day of the month, 1861, in the streets 
of Baltimore. They were the first men who responded to 
the call of the President for seventy-five thousand soldiers, 
after the capture of Sumter. Such was their promptitude 
that some of them left their homes at midnight, and, press- 
ing their way through a storm of driving sleet, were in 
Boston under arms, awaiting orders to march, before 
another sun had risen, after their receiving the summons. 
That promptitude had much to do with saving the govern- 
ment. Without it, the boast of the rebels, when they 
planted their flag on Sumter, might have been made good. 
Before the end of May, that flag might have floated from 
the capitol at Washington, and the savage eye of the 
slave i:)Ower have been glaring down upon us from the 
turrets of the captured city. 

As one of these regiments was passing through New 
York, a gentleman of that city met one of its members on 
the street. 

"Is there anything I can do for you?" said the New 
Yorker, whose heart warmed toward the representative of 
the brave Massachusetts militia who had been so prompt 
to shoulder the musket. 

The soldier hesitated a moment, and finally, raising one 
of his feet, exhibited a boot with a hole in the toe, and, in 
other respects, decidedly the worse for wear. 

"How came you here with such boots as those, my 
friend ? " asked the patriotic citizen. 

"When the order came for me to join my company, sir," 
replied the soldier, "I was ploughing in the same field at 



THE UNKNOWN CHILDREN. 



201 



Concord wliere my grandfather was ploughing when the 
British fired on the Massachusetts men at Lexington. He 
did not wait a moment; and I did not, sir." 

It is needless to say that the soldier was immediately 
supplied with a full equipment for all his wants, and with 
a " God-speed " was sent forward on his way. 

Vn. THE UNKNOWN CHILDREN. 

A gentleman from Philadelphia, who was at Gettysburg 
as a volunteer surgeon, obtained there a most touching 
relic of that terrible battle. It was a melainotype, or an 
ambrotype on iron of three children, and was taken from 
the hands of a dead soldier who belonged to the Union 
army. He had been mortally wounded, and crawled to a 
sheltered place, where his body was found, with the picture 
of his children so placed that his eyes could rest upon it in 
his dying moments. There was no clew to his name, or 
his regiment, or his former place of residence. He had 
evidenUy carried it with him into battle, and that image 
perhaps of a motherless group that must be cast henceforth 
upon God's fatherhood shows with what thoughts it was 
hardest for him to struggle in death. 

Of the children in the picture, two were boys and one a 
girl, all of them with features of uncommon beauty. The 
oldest, a boy, is seated in the centre, the youngest, a boy, 
on the other's right hand, and a little girl on the left. The 
picture had a flat gilt frame, and probably had been sent to 
the soldier from home in a letter. It is to be hoped that 
it may find its way yet into the hands of some of the rela- 
tives of the deceased father.^ 

1 Since this paragrapla was laid aside for insertion here, the identity (jf the un- 
known soldier has been ascertained. His name was Humiston, and his widow 
and three children live at PortviUe, Cattaraugus County, New York. The pub- 
licity given to the circumstance led to this discovery. 



202 MEMOPJAM^OF THE WAR. 



VIII. A MOTHER S LOVE. 



It was early morning, on the first day of May, 1863, that 
the regiment of which the writer is a membei- left its 
bivouac in a thick grove of young oaks, and started at a 
quick step down a wide road leading to the famed city of 
Fredericksburg, Virginia. 

A battle was expected. We felt that life was uncertain, 
and that ere another sunset, some of our number would be 
called to their long account ; but stern duty beckoned us 
on, and we advanced to the intrenchments which the 
rebels had thrown up during the night to stop our progress. 

Our regiment, which led the main column, immediately 
deployed as skirmishers, and advanced at a double-quick 
toward the battery which the confederates now opened on 
the line of battle forming behind us; while their skirmish- 
ers, concealed by fences and trees, poured a galling fire 
upon us. 

Some few yards in front of my position stood a log- 
house, looking as thrifty as most Virginia houses. Just at 
this moment, while shells were screaming oveihead, and 
the ground was torn with rifle-balls, a woman rushed out 
of this house and started toward our line. She had gone 
but a few steps, however, when she stopped ; and then 
darting back into the building, against which the bullets 
now fell like rain, almost immediately reappeared with an 
infmt in her arms, and again started toward the array of 
armed men who had now nearly reached the hut. Our 
men at this instant stopped the firing. Every one's eye 
was fixed with intense interest on the mother as she sped 
like a frightened deer toward a place of safety; and 
although the bullets fell like hail around her, and several 
(as I afterward learned) actually pierced her dress, she 



THE VALUE OF SECONDS. 203 

never faltered until she passed through our line, which 
closed behind her, and then she fell fainting to the ground, 
but was safe. 

How strong must be that love which could urge a tender 
woman, unused to the horrible din of battle, through a fire 
which might appall the bravest ! Yet her love for her child 
overcame every emotion of fear. It seemed as if an 
All-wise Hand turned aside the missiles of death which 
were hurtling by on every side, and permitted her to escape 
unhurt. The poetess was indeed right when she wrote, — 

" Over my heart, in the days that are flown, 
No love like mother's love ever hath shone." * 



IX. THE VALUE OF SECONDS. 

General Mitchell was well known as an eminent astrono- 
mer, in addition to his other merits. An officer with whom 
he had business to transact reported himself at a later hour 
than had been named for the interview. 

" Sir, you are late," exclaimed the general. 

" Only a few seconds," responded the officer. 

" Sir, I have been in the habit of computing the value 
of a hundreth part of a second," retorted the general. 

The subordinate felt the rebuke and was silent. The 
difference of a few seconds affects the movements of earth 
and sun and stars, and affects often as really the fate of 
armies and the destiny of nations and individuals, and 
that, too, in our interests future and eternal as well as 
present. 

1 First published in the Zion^s Advocate, Portland, Maine, 



204 MEMORIALS^F THE WAR. 



X. OLD nUiS'DRED AT NIGHT. 

During the Peninsular campaign several of us (says a 
correspondent of one of the public journals) were sitting in 
our tent, a few hours after sunset, on Sabbath evening, 
when one of the number, laying his hand on my knee, sud- 
denly exclaimed, "Hark, what is that?" 

In an instant the talking ceased, and every ear was bent 
forward to catch the sound which had fixed the attention 
of our comrade. A silence ensued for a moment, and then 
there was wafted across the air the music of that glorious 
anthem, " Old Hundred," in which it seemed as if a thou- 
sand voices participated. 

All of us immediately sought the open air, and there 
stood until the last note died away upon our ear. Never 
before had we heard anything so magnificently grand as this 
same " Old Hundred " sung by the soldiers of the Union 
army on the plains of Yorktown. The air was made vocal 
with the music, and the woods around reverberated with 
the mighty strain. Beneath the canopy of heaven the sol- 
diers gazed upward into the star-lit sky, and sang, all with 
one voice, — 

" Praise God from whom all blessings flow; 
Praise Him all creatures here below; 
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host, 
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." 

It was solemn, soul-stirring, to hear these words thus 
chanted that have so often stirred the best, holiest emo- 
tions of man's heart. It was a scene not unfitted to inspire 
the genius of a Christian poet or artist. 



an:^dote of general sedgwick. 205 



XI. A precious testimony. 

My son (says Dr. Thompson) ^ had learned to trust in 
Jesus as a friend. I see him now as he stood with me 
alone in his chamber, strapping his knapsack for his journey 
to Wheeling — the parting interview. The day had been 
given to his outfit. 

" Well, John," I said, " I believe I have procured every- 
thing that you will need. But there is one thing that you 
alone can care for. You are going upon a very serious 
business, with temptations and dangers, perhaps sickness 
and death, before you. You must keep near to Christ, my 
son, in prayer ; never forget that." 

Pausiug for a moment in his preparations, he turned his 
large, loving eyes full upon me, looking his whole soul into 
mine, and answered, — 

« Father, I think I'm all right there." 

His religious" habit was so reticent, so thoughtful, so sin- 
cere, that those few words expressed to me his whole inner 
life. 

The well-thumbed Testament and knapsack manual for 
devotion, among his effects, bear witness to his fidelity ; 
and the testimony borne by all to the pureness of his 
speech and manner, and to the Christian elevation of his 
whole life, prove how thoroughly he was right within. 



XII. ANECDOTE OF GENERAL SEDGWICK:* 

I have seen a second lieutenant, (says one of our sol- 
diers) in all the pomp and circumstance of a major- 
general, come dashing down the road, slashing at wear/ 

1 See the article on page 169* 
18 



206 MEMORIAL|^OF THE WAR. 

stragglers with his sword, or swearing at those who were 
not quick enough in dragging themselves from under his 
horse's feet. One day, a soldier, one of our best, had fallen, 
exhausted by over-work and illness, and lay helpless in the 
road, when an officer came dashing along in evident haste 
to join his staff in advance. It was pitiable to see the effort 
the poor boy made to drag his unwilling limbs out of the 
way. He struggled up only to sink back with a look that 
asked only the privilege of lying there undisturbed, to die. 
In an instant he found his head pillowed on an arm as gen- 
tle as his far-away motlier's might have been, and a face 
bent over him, expressive of the deepest pity, in every 
lineament. It is characteristic of our bravest boys, that 
they say but little. The uncomplaining words of the soldier 
in this instance were few, but understood. 

The officer raised him in his arms and placed him in his 
own saddle, supporting the limp and swaying figure by one 
firm arm, while with the other he curbed the steps of his 
impatient horse to a gentler pace. For two miles, without 
a gesture of impatience, he travelled in this tedious way, 
mitil he reached an ambulance train, and placed the sick 
soldier in one of the wagons. It was our noble Sedgwick, 
our brave general of the Sixth Corps, pressed with great 
anxieties and knowing the preciousness of every moment. 

We all know that great things are to be done, and well 
done, when we see that earnest figure in its rough blouse 
hurrying past, and never have our boys been disappointed 
in him. He works incessantly, is unostentatious; and 
when he appears among us, all eyes folio v.^ him with out- 
spoken blessings. He saved his corps from utter anni- 
hilation at Chancellorsville by his bravery and good 
judgment.-^ 

1 Inserted in the Christian Watchman, Boston, 



207 



XIII. A BE AVE CONFESSION". 

A visitor to a Philadelphia hospital, one of the women- 
workers in behalf of the invalid soldiers, says, — 

In going ray rounds, I stopped once to speak to a young 
man of a rather agreeable and pleasant expression of face, 
who seemed anxious to talk, and exhibited much intelli- 
gence, though without culture. At the battle of Newport 
News, he had been shot through the right leg, and had suf- 
fered terribly, — so much that he now looked the very 
shadow of a man, he was so dreadfully emaciated. His 
account of the battle was enthusiastic, and concluded with 
a long detail of the tortures he had to endure from hunger, 
thirst, and indeed almost eyery imaginable ill that could 
befall a soldier in the field, surrounded by enemies. 

"I suppose you don't feel much like going back, do 
you?" I asked, when he had finished. 

" Yes," he replied heartily. " If I knew I should have 
to suffer the same over again, I should want to go back. I 
want to get well chiefly to return to duty. There are too 
few honest patriots to spare even a single one, and if I 
have any pride, it is because I know I am one, — whole- 
souled and true. I haven't many virtues, but my fault will 
never be treachery to my native land. I'll die for her, if I 
can't live to defend her ! " 



XIY. THE SOLDIER S LAST WATCH. 

A lonely grave, a little apart from others, stands on the 
ground of one of the battles fought in the retreat from 
Richmond, in the summer of 1862, which bears on its 
wooden head-piece simply the name 

TROWBRIDGE. 



208 MEMOEIAI^OF THE WAR. 

The turf covers the remains of a youthful soldier who was 
not only brave and patient, but exemplary as a Christian. 
Those battles renewed from day to day and attended by 
so many hardships, destroyed many lives, in addition to 
those lost in conflict with the enemy. Hundreds and hun- 
dreds of our gallant men, worn out by marches, fight- 
ing, hunger, and loss of sleep, became discouraged, and 
either recklessly threw themselves into the jaws of death, 
or fell into the hands of the enemy, because they were un- 
able to keep up with their more robust though not braver 
companions. 

The. circumstances of the death of one of tliese silent 
martyrs to their country were taken down from the lips of 
a soldier who was with him in his last hours. It is all that 
may be known, save to a few bleeding hearts, of one who, 
alas! like so many others, sleeps in that saddest of all places, 
a battle-field. The worn-out soldier, the day before liis 
death, said to his lieutenant, " I am so weak and helpless, I 
do not know what I can do further." 

He was told to lie down and get what rest he could on 
the battle-field. About ten at night, (said his tent-mate), 
as we were talking together, an ofiicer of the company 
came up and told us we should retreat at two o'clock in 
the morning. He ordered us to stand guard till then, two 
hours each in turn. 

We took straws and drew lots, to decide who should stand 
first. The lot fell on Trowbridge. I threw myself on the 
ground under a tree, with my blanket drawn over me, and 
was soon in a deep sleep. At twelve I was aroused, but 
said, " You must be mistaken ; it cannot be five minutes 
since I lay down." 

We had been ordered not to speak aloud, or to have a 
light ; and he replied in a whisper, " Feel of the hands of 
my watch, — it is twelve." 



THE soldier's LAST WATCH. 20i 

I took his place, and he was soon asleep or seemed to be 
asleep. At half-past one o'clock, the order came to break 
up and move. I went to awake Trowbridge, but had no 
answer except that he groaned heavily once and then again. 
I tried to soothe him and awake him gently, but he 
turned aside his head, groaned once more and was gone. I 
struck a match in my possession and looked upon his fea- 
tures; they were set and ghastly in death. I jDlaced his 
hand on my cheek, and asked him, if he was still conscious, 
to press it. There was no response; life was evidently 
extinct. 

I made an attempt to find the surgeon or the chaplain, 
but they had ^both gone forward with the army. So, I 
searched his pockets, and taking from them six dollars for 
his mother, and a letter directed to himself, I replaced the 
envelope, that his name at least might be known to those 
who should find the body. 

Several days after this, I was one of a number of men 
detailed to go back to that spot and bury the dead. On 
searching near the place where Trowbridge died, I found a 
grave with a Avooden tablet bearing his name. Not far 
distant was a house at which I called and asked the inmates 
if they knew anything of that grave. The woman of the 
family then brought forward an envelope, the very one 
I had replaced, and said they had buried a soldier there, 
from whose pocket it was taken. It was a rehef to know 
what had become of the body. Of course I wrote to his 
mother, sending the money, and giving an account of her 
sou's last moments and his burial. 



18* 



20^J-0 MEMOKI.^* OF THE WAR. 



XV. POWER OF FORGIVENESS. 

Governmental justice must follow law; it may not 
sacrifice the public interest for any private one. Even in 
cases where the judge may deal with the individual as^ 
such, we need wisdom to know whether lenity or severity 
will best answer the purpose. The apostle speaks of a 
diiference: "Of some have compassion; and others save 
with fear, pulling them out of the fire." ^ 

In one of the garrisons, a soldier, who had been guilty of 
some misdemeanor, was about to be brought before the 
commander of his regiment to receive his sentence and 
be punished. The officer who entered the soldier's name,' 

on seeing it said, " Here is B. F again. What can we 

do with him? He has gone through almost every ordeal 
already." 

The sergeant, with an apology for his freedom, spoke up 
and said, "There is one thing that has never been done 
with him yet, sir." 

"What is that, sergeant?" 

"Well, sir, he has never yet been forgiven." 
X" Forgiven ! " said the colonel. " There is his case entered. 
It is too late." 

" Yes, but the man is not before you, and you can cancel 
it." 

The colonel reflected a few moments, and then ordered 
the delinquent to be brought in, and asked him what he 
had to say about the charges alleged against him. 

"Nothing, sir," was the reply, "only that I am sorry 
for what I have done." 

" Well," said the officer after a few prefatory words, " we 
have decided to forgive you." 

1 Jude 22, 23. 



SEALS OF HIS MINISTRY. 211 

The soldier was struck with astonishment. The tears 
started to his eyes, — he wept. The colonel, with the 
adjutant and others present, were deeply affected when they 
saw the man so humbled. The grateful soldier thanked 
the colonel for his kindness and withdrew. 

The author of these lines had a personal knowledge of 
the conduct of the pardoned culprit for two years and a 
half after this occurrence. During that time, no charge 
was brought against him, nor any fault ever found with him. 
He was a reclaimed and faithful man. 

It was a triumph of mercy. The offender was won by 
kindness. 

XVI. SEALS OF HIS MINISTRY. 

A touching scene occurred at Camp Nelson, in Kentucky. 
A clergyman, who labored at that camp, as a delegate of 
the Christian Commission, relates the incident. 

There was one man among those with whom I conversed 
there that I shall never forget. He was a soldier from Ken- 
tucky. He was unable to read and had a painful sense of 
his ignorance. One of his first questions was, " Don't you 
think a man can go to heaven if he has no learning?" 

"Certainly, if he will only trust in his Saviour," I 
replied. 

" That I have tried to do," said he ; " and the last thing 
I did before leaving home was to pray with my sister." 

As I sought to enlighten him, and encourage him to 
trust more and more in the Lord Jesus, he looked me 
intently in the eye and said, "Old gentleman — I confess, 
it is many years I have tried to serve the Master — what 
you say has done me more good than anything the doc- 
tors have done or can do for me." 

The next Sabbath, I saw a soldier's funeral passing my 



212 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

tent, with a fife and drum playing a funeral march. I 
joined the solemn procession, and, on reaching the grave, 
proposed to the officer in charge to make some remarks. 
He consented, and when the men were drawn up in order 
and the coffin was lowered into the grave, I began to speak. 
By the name on the little headboard, I discovered that I 
was standing at the grave of the man with whom I had 
recently conversed. 

In my remarks, I alluded to that circumstance, not with- 
out tenderness on my part, and with evident effect on 
others. Prayer was then offered for the bereaved friends, 
for the sick in the hospital, and those present, and I closed. 
The word was given, and the soldiers fired the parting 
salute over the grave, then "Right about face, — forward, 
march ! " and they were gone. 

I can never forget this scene. I hope to see that youth- 
ful soldier again in another and better world. The remark 
of his that my conversation did him more good than any- 
thing the doctors could do has strengthened me for the 
rest of life. Those words of the honest, unlettered boy 
are the best credentials that I or any minister could have 
from human testimony. 



XVII. A STEP ONWARD. 

Yesterday (says a friend, who writes from Providence, 
R. I.) a battalion of colored soldiers, six hundred in num- 
ber, came up to the city from the famed Dutch Island. 
They are on their Avay to New Orleans. The colored 
Avomen of the city have procured a grand banner for them. 
To-day, December tenth, it was presented to these sons of 
liberty. The flag is a heavy silk, fringed ; the whole very- 
rich and elegant. 



GENEROSITY OF A SLAVE. 213 

The presentation was made by Mr. Waugh, a freedman, 
who said he had never learned grammar, but who surprised 
those who listened to him, by his elegant, well-put and 
patriotic speech. The response was made by another 
freedman called to the duty ten minutes only before he 
was to perform it, and both of them showed that men of 
their race can frame a speech fitting and forcible, better 
than some who assume that duty whose opportunities have 
been vastly greater. 

Our excellent Governor Smith is in the forefront of these 
patriotic plans for the redeemed children of oppression. 
His labor has for its first result above eighteen hundred 
colored troops, "armed and equipped." If any one can 
show a finer body of troops in vigor, in spirit, and in 
manners, let them go forward and serve their country. 

But the colored women sending a battle-flag borne by 
such a regiment to a city and State where slavery has 
reigned with such uncurbed license ! Is not this a step 
onward ? 

We are not at the end yet ; but has not our flag now 
risen high enough to show which way its folds point ? 



XVIII. GENEEOSITY OF A SLAVE. 



A few weeks since, one of the most able and useful 
chaplains of the army spent a few days in Washington, 
and while there, was invited to preach in one of the colored 
churches of the city. 

He had a large and interesting congregation. Among 
them were those who had 'been slaves as well as others. 
The speaker reminded them of the sudden change that has 
taken place in their condition and prospects. He urged 
them to show themselves worthy of the future which is 



214 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

opening before them. Tliey had been scorned and op- 
pressed. Now they had their own destiny, in some sense 
tliat of the country, in their hands. If they were meek 
and patient under injuries, they would overcome the malice 
of their enemies. Some were clamorinGj asjainst them as 
unworthy of freedom. If they were temperate, industri- 
ous, and honest, they would silence such accusers. The 
preacher knew of instances in which colored men and 
women had, by their courage and generosity, won the 
esteem and gratitude of a multitude of officers and soldiers 
of our army. He illustrated the remark by an example. 

After one of the battles of this war (said he) in north- 
eastern Virginia, many wounded Union and Confederate 
soldiers were brought into the town of Winchester, and 
placed in the churches, school-rooms, and court-house, side 
by side. 

The ladies of that place brought into the hospitals many 
things to nourish and tempt the languid appetite of the 
sufferers, but they gave everything to the Confederate sol- 
diers ; our men they passed by as unworthy of sympathy or 
notice. One day, a lady who had been a constant visitor, 
brought in a supply of fragrant tea. She went from one 
couch to another of her friends, but had no eye or heart 
of pity for others. One of our wounded men, who was 
very ill, thought that a cup of this tea might help him. 
He begged me to ask the lady for a taste of it. I went to 
her, and in a manner that I thought not offensive told her 
the soldier's request. 

" No," said she, and her face flushed with anger ; " not a 
drop of it ; this tea is all for our suffering martyrs." 

" Madam," I said, " I looked for no other answer. I beg 
pardon for having seemed to suppose for a moment that 
I should receive a different one." 

My anger was aroused, I confess. At that moment, an 



GENEROSITY OF A SLAVE. 215 

aged colored woman approached the surgeon and myself. 
She was lame, and could hardly walk under the weight of 
two large baskets which she bore on her arms, while a 
black boy followed her, carrying another basket. 

Having come up to us, she set down her burden and 
said, — 

" Master, I am a slave ; my husband is a slave, and my 
children are slaves. Will you accept these things from a 
poor slave woman for the wounded men here ? I do not 
want money. No, master, I could never look .you in the 
face, if I took your money." 

She then opened one of the baskets, and took up a roll 
of stockings, and said, — 

"Master, months ago, I knew this war was coming; and 
when all were asleep in my cabin, I knit these that some 
poor, sufferer might be warmed, — and will you allow a poor 
slave to give them to these men ? " 

Then taking up some papers of tea she said, " This tea I 
earned by my own work. I would not drink it myself, for 
I knew the day was not far off when some weak and faint- 
ing men would need it more than I do. Will you permit 
me to give it to you? And here," said she, lifting up some 
cans of fruit, " are the peaches, pears, and plums of my 
own garden ; I saved them all for you. I could not eat 
*Them when my heart told me that suffering and dying 
soldiers would need them. Will you permit me, kind 
master, to give them to you for the poor men lying here ? 

And so other things she had brought — linen napkins, 
handkerchiefs, lint — she held up, and said, — 

"Master, I have not stolen them. My own hands have 
earned them over the wash-tub and by house-cleaning. 
Permit me to give them to you. I wished to do something 
for those who are far from home, among strangers and suf- 
ferinsj want." 



216 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. ^ 

As she talked, she grew more and more earnest. Tears 
rolled over her foce, and fell on her hands as she lifted to 
me the treasures of her basket. I can never forget the 
earnestness and humility of her manner, as she said, again 
and again, " Permit me, master, permit me." 

"Oh, yes, Aunty," I said; "we will not only receive 
them, but pay you for all you have brought." 

"Oh, master," said she, "be not so unkind as to offer me 
money. I want the pleasure of giving these little things. 
Oh, I am sorry I have so little! If I had a thousand 
times as much, and better things, too, I should give them 
all." 

Our sick and wounded men looked with wonder and ad- 
miration on the woman, and soon a hundred of them cried 
out, "Aunty, God bless you! You are the only white 
woman we have seen in Winchester." 

Now (continued the chaplain), do you think those sol- 
diers ever forgot that woman, and thought her skin was 
darker than that of their sisters and mother. Will they 
not ever remember her as a noble, true friend in need ? 
And will not every one of them be kinder to every 
daughter of Africa who comes in his way, because one of 
them pitied and helped him when he was a stranger and 
half dead. I do not know what became of that generous 
woman. She may be still a slave ; but certain I am that 
in long years to come, when the soldiers of the army meet 
in peaceful homes, we will talk of her, and ask Qod to 
bless her. 

Go and do as she did. Be gentle ; do good unto all men, 
even your enemies. Be not vain and proud, spending nil 
you make in dress and ^jleasure ; but deny yourselves to do 
good, and soon those who despise you will become your 
friends. 

As the chaplain was relating these facts, he saw in the 



PRINCIPLE STPvOXGER THAN NATURE. 217 

congregation a woman whose face glowed and was wet 
with tears. And when he had ended the service, this per- 
son came up and said to him, "Master, I am the woman 
you spoke of this morning. I bless the good Lord I am 
free, and my husband and two children are all free and 
here in Washington, and we are now happier than ever in 
our lives." ^ 

As they heard this, many gathered around her, to thank 
her again for her charity to the wounded soldiers. And 
the chaplain rejoiced to meet in freedom one who had 
shown herself to be so generous a woman and so true a 
Christian. 

XIX. PRINCIPLE STRONGER THAN NATURE. 

In one of the earlier stages of the war, a young officer 
fell in battle, as he was bravely leading on his troops 
against the insurgents. His body was brought home 
for burial. The venerable mother who was nearly, if not 
quite, four-score years old, stood gazing calmly on the 
remains of her son, who should have been her own stay 
and staff in the decline of life. 

At last a movement was made by a friend to cover the 
face, and hide it from human sight forever. The noble 
woman put him gently aside, and, carefully performing the 
act herself, said, "My son, I have laid you to rest many a 
time before. Now I do it for the last time, and with 
the flag of your country." 

1 In fhe dialogire of the narrative we have, of course, the sense of tlie speakers, 
not tlie exact words. As to the facts of the narrative, the Rev. Dr. Marks, of 
Washington, reports them on the strength of his own personal knowledge. 
19 



218 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 



XX. SIGHTS AFTER BATTLE. 

On the twenty-seventh of the last month ^ a battle was 
fought beyond the Kapidan, which resulted in a victory 
for the national arms, but with a heavy loss on both sides. 
A letter, written at Alexandria, Virginia, December sixth,^ 
describes some of the after-scenes of the conflict, which it 
is painful to read, and must have been still more painful to 
witness. 

A week elapsed after the fight, and trains of cars, laden 
with the wounded and dying, began to make their appear- 
ance at Alexandria, from the "front." 

The work of amputation, dressing of wounds, and prep- 
arations for removal, commenced on the spot the next 
morning after the battle. It was some distance to the 
nearest railroad, and the wounded, maimed, in some cases 
dying men, were put into ambulances, and sent forward to 
that point. The roads were so wretched that five or six 
miles a day was all the progress that could be made. It 
must be left to the imagination to conceive what they suf- 
fered under such circumstances, during so many wearisome 
days and nights. 

On reaching Alexandria (says the eye-witness), every 
thing was done for their relief that could be done by the 
ministrations and sympathy of man. Agents of the Sani- 
tary Commission, in anticipation of their arrival, met them 
at the station with hot coffee, and with suitable food. 
Several delegates of the Christian Commission, whotwere 
providentially there, lent their aid in transferring tha suf- 
fering men to the several hospitals in that city. Between 
thirty and forty freight cars were filled with those living 

1 November, 1802. 

2 lu the Boston Recorder, December 18, 1863. 



SIGHTS AFTEll BATTLE. 219 

relics of the slaughter. Seven hundred men, certainly 
not fewer, were brought hither in this manner. Ambulan 
ces and stretchers were in constant motion between the 
cars and the hospitals; but it was past midnight before tho 
sa^ work was completed. 

The scenes of that night it is impossible for any descrip- 
tion adequately to portray. Some of the men had lost an 
arm, some a leg, some both legs. The wounds were of 
every conceivable sort, and in every part of the body, from 
the crown of the head to the sole of the foot. They had 
been shot in the head, in the face, in the neck, in the shoul- 
ders, the arms, the legs, and the feet. They had been shot 
through the chest, through the lungs, through the hips and 
through the thighs. 

Yet let no one suppose it was all gloom, lamentation, and 
complaint here. It was otherwise, far otherwise. Sufferers 
they were, but, almost without exception, patient, cheerful 
sufferers. They gave the highest proof of courage that 
men can give. "Almost any one," said a great commander, 
"can be brave in battle under a good leader; but he is 
the real hero who can be brave when the battle is over." 
To look at some of these n^en might almost lead one to 
think that they were gathered there for some celebration 
or a festive scene. 

They were grateful for our assistance (says the writer 
of the letter), but it was wonderful to see how disposed 
and able they were to help themselves. Some, indeed, 
could do nothing in their own behalf. But many of them, 
frightfully maimed and mangled as they were, with a little 
help from us, would descend from the cars and take their 
places in the ambulances, nearly as quick as if they had 
been well. 

With such lights and shadows does the memory of that 
Friday night, December fourth, 1863, abide with me, and 



220 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

will abide forever. What pen but that of the recording 
angel can write its history? The stars in their courses 
looked down mildly and lovingly upon us, from the sweet 
canopy above, as if in sympathy with our lieaits and 
work. With a silence almost as 23rofound as theirs, un- 
known to those whom we ministered to, and they unknown 
to us, with musings in their hearts and ours known only to 
Him who "knoweth what is in man," we went forward 
with our sad work, thankful, if such work must be done, 
for the privilege of d Jng it, in the hope that we are follow- 
ing, at some humble distance, " Him who went about doing 
good." 

But more remarkable than even that night were the two 
following days, Saturday and Sabbath which we spent in 
intercourse with these men. We visited them from ward to 
ward in the hospitals, conversed and prayed with them, 
extended to them, as far as we could, the kind and tender 
sympathy of loved ones far away, wrote letters for them, 
and supplied them with copies of the Word of God in the 
place of those they had lost in the service. Oh, what a 
field for pastoral work ! No minister of Christ at home, in 
ordinary times, has one to be compared with it for a 
moment. Men at home, impenitent men, cannot be ap- 
proached on the subject of their salvation as these men 
can. To say that they are " accessible " is not enough. 
Their hearts are all open. They speak freely and ingenu- 
ously even when not specially interested. Many of them 
are tender in their feelings, — the starting tear, the choked 
utterance reveal it. Some are anxious and seeking. They 
love to be conversed with and counselled. Some, with 
bitter regrets, confess their backsliding, and lament tli;.t 
they have not maintained that character in the army which 
tliey had hoped to mainif\in. 

Ou he contrary, there ire not a few shining examples 



DYING FOR A BENEFACTOR. 221 

of what the grace of God can do for men in a situation 
usually so a<1 verse to a religious life. Having unfurled 
their banner at the outset, having at the very first defined 
their position before their comrades, as friends of Jesus and 
soldiers of the cross, they have been able to hold on their 
way and to grow stronger and stronger. 

Among the maimed and wounded were three who fiall 
into our hands from the rebel army. Two of them be- 
longed to a Georgia regiment, the third to a North Carolina 
regiment. No case (says the narrator) interested me so 
much, or appealed for sympathy so much as that of these 
prisoners. I had repeated interviews with them, and heard 
them talk about home, and the cause in which we are 
fighting. They are choice young men, and I think they 
are Union men. One of them requested me to write my 
name in the Testament I gave him. 

If the churches at home could hear what some of these 
men in the hospitals say of the services of the Christian 
Commission in the field, if they could know how many, 
lives it has saved, how many hearts it has strengthened 
and comforted, it would be the most efiective appeal ever 
made to them for their prayers and their charities. 



XXI. DYING FOR A BENEFACTOR. 

In the battle which resulted in the capture of Fort 
Donelson, an orderly sergeant saw a rebel pointing a rifle 
at the captain of his company. The aim was perfect ; the 
distance at which he stood left no room for escape. At 
that instant the soldier rushed forward, threvf himself 
before the oflScer, received the bullet in his own breast, 
and fell dead in the arms of the man he had saved. 

It was ascertained, as the explanation of this singular act, 

19* 



222 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

that the brave fellow had been reared and generonslf 
treated by the captain's father. He had declared when ho 
enlisted in the army, that he would be happy to die to save 
the life of his benefiactor's son. The affection shown to 
each other by Damon and Pythias did not exceed that of 
this nameless soldier. 

It was an instance of that last degree of self-sacrifice of 
which the Scripture represents our imperfect nature as 
capable. " Scarcely for a righteous man " — one who is sim- 
ply just — " will one die; yet, perad venture, for a good man " 
— one truly benevolent — "some would even dare to die."^ 



XXn. THE LAST VICTORY. 

General N. B. Sanders, so honorably known as a brave 
and efficient commander, was wounded in one of the East 
Tennessee battles, near the end of 1863. He was a Ken- 
tuckian, educated at West Point, which he left in 1856- 
He had been shot in a close hand-to-hand fight with the 
enemy. He was not aware at first how serious the injury 
was. On being examined by the physician, the general 
asked, — 

"Tell me, doctor, if my wound is mortal?" 

The doctor replied, " Sanders, it is a fearful wound and 
mortal. I am very sorry to say it, my dear fellow, but the 
odds are against you." 

The general calmly replied, " Well, I am not afraid to 
die. I have made up my mind upon that subject. I have 
done my duty, and have served my country as well as I 
could." 

He lingered until the next day, and during that time 
was perfectly conscious. In the course of the morning, he 

1 Romans v. 7, 



THE LAST VICTORY. 223 

explained certain symptoms to the doctor, and asked him 
what they meant. 

The doctor replied, " General, you are dying." 

" If that be so," he said, " I would like to see a clergy- 
man." 

The Rev. Mr. Hayden, chaplain of the post, was sent for, 
who came; and in the j^resence of General Burnside, with 
some of his staff. Captain Harris, a classmate, and several 
others, the dying officer was baptized. 

He remarked after this that it had always been the desire 
of his friends that he should be baptized. He meant that 
they had long ago urged him to take this step, and thought 
him a fit subject for the ordinance. He was too distrustful 
to seem to rely on his own judgment in such a matter. 

The minister then commended him to God, and while the 
fervent prayer was offered. General Burnside and the 
others present were kneeling around the bed of the dying 
believer. He shook hands with his chief, who stood tear- 
fully over him, as if loath to witness the flight of the brave 
spirit. It was a scene never to be forgotten. 

After this, he was preparing to partake of the sacrament, 
when his strength suddenly failed, and he was gone. It 
was hardly possible to mark the change. As Dr. Jackson, 
the physician, said, " He went to sleep like an infant." In 
a moment, as we trust, he passed beyond the need of 
symbols into the heavenly rest. 

Such was the end of one of the bravest and most unpre- 
tending men whom God has raised up to serve the country 
in this time of need. 



224 MEMOEIALS OF THE WAR. 



XXIII. DO TOU EEMEMBER ECIvIXGTON ? 

Passing through the hospital one day, a young man was 
pointed out to me who the nurse said was near his end. 
I approached, and kneeling by the side of his cot, took his 
hand in mine. As he opened his eyes and looked up into 
mine, a smile of recognition passed over his features. 

"I know you, I know you," said he. "Do you remem- 
ber Eckington Hospital ? Not long since, you and a good 
lady were there. Under a grove of trees in front of the 
building, you preached to us about the Great Physician, 
Then the lady sang to us some sweet songs of Zion, and 
reading matter furnished by the Christian Commission was 
distributed among the men. Yes, chaplain, I was then a 
convalescent soldier, and a wicked young man. When 1 
was a boy, my mother used to kneel with me at the bedside 
and teach me the little prayer, — 

' Now I lay me clown to sleep,' 

and till I left home I was instructed how to live, but for 
all that, I never became a Christian. 

"Well, sir, as I listened to the preaching, and the singing 
of those sweet songs, I began to feel that at last I ought 
to give my heart to God. I saw how good he had been to 
me all my life, and I felt that I had done nothing but siu 
against him while ray heart was at enmity with him. I 
resolved to go to Jesus, and through him seek salvation. 
That night, I began to pray; and though for a time it 
seemed very dark, yet it was not long before I felt that 
Jesus was my Saviour. No sooner did I trust in Him, and 
commit my soul to God with all its interests, than I felt, 
yea, I knew, I was accepted and saved. Oh, the love that 
sprang up in my heart to Jesus in that moment! How I 



THE BOOK WILL TELL. 225 

love him now ! " he said, as floods of tears flowed from his 
eyes, " and how I long to be with him ! I did not expect 
to die so soon. A few days only have passed since I had 
this hope ; but, — thank God, I have improved the time." 

I spoke of his mother. 

" Mother I am sure will be happy," said he. "I had just 
as lief die as not, for I shall see her in heaven. Father 
has already gone there." 

'He was so much afiected that I feared his tears and 
emotions would hasten his death, and said to him, — 

" Be as calm as you can, my brother." 

He only whispered back, "Jesus wept." 

I left him with the light of heaven beaming through his 
pale features. I was told he dwelt upon the name of Jesus 
in faint whispers, with indescribable tenderness till his lips 
ceased to move. 



XXIV. THE BOOK WILL TELL. 

The brother of a sick soldier travelled two thousand 
miles to find him, watch over him, and, if it might be, 
restore him to his friends. But he arrived too late. Before 
the long journey was accomplished, the hand of death was 
laid upon the invalid, and had borne him beyond the 
reach of human care and sympathy. The brother, wishing 
to secure the few efiects of the departed one as keepsakes, 
went to the camp where his regiment was stationed. A 
fellow-soldier (says one of the party) led us to a tent that 
was only large enough to contain two bunks and a small 
table. Beneath one of the bunks were two or three soiled 
and dusty knapsacks. TJie weeping brother proceeded to 
open one of these, and to examine its contents. Every 
little article of the scanty wardrobe was scrutinized as well 



226 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

as blinding tear-drops would permit. The brother was 
not certain, but thought he could recognize some of the 
articles as those of the loved one, of whom the most 
trifling token would be so dear to surviving friends. 

At the bottom of the knapsack lay a Bible. The thought 
which seized me at this discovery (says the relator) was 
that also of our guide, who cried out instantly, "The 
book will tell." 

The trembling hands of the bereaved brother grasped 

the Bible, and, unclasping it, we read, " Presented to 

by his brother, , N. Y., , 1862." 

The doubt was solved. Here, indeed, were the effects 
that we had taken such pains to recover, and they were 
known by the testimony of the Bible, in which the hand 
of affection had written the owner's name. That excla- 
mation, " The book will tell," is full of meaning. The Bible 
has been given as a keepsake to thousands and thousands 
of our soldiers, as they have gone forth to the dangers of 
the war, and has not been given in vain. Many of them, 
it is impossible to doubt, wall be indebted to that gift for 
having their names enrolled in the Lamb's book of life. 
During this war, how often has the sacred volume, put 
into the knapsack of the departing soldier by mother or 
sister, been sent back to the lonely home as the only relic 
of the son and brother who has fallen in battle, or pined 
away in the camp or hospital. But one anxiety is left now, 
and respecting that they say to themselves, " The book 
will tell." With blinded eyes, with hope and fear, they 
open the returned Bible to see what evidence of its perusal 
they can find — what passages were marked, at what verse 
the last leaf was turned down. 

The saying has a lesson for us all. The revelations of 
this book are to decide each one's destiny. The tests of 
character are prescribed there, to which all must be 



A soldier's pocket diary. 227 

brought, in the presence of the Judge at last; and from 
that book in effect will issue the sentence, — " Come " or 
"Depart" — which awaits every probationer. 



It is very suggestive and veiy touching to look over the 
pocket diary, in which a brave soldier, in short, abrupt, 
terse sentences, with long omissions, gives hints of what 
is passing around and within him. Such glimpses of 
military life give us our best views of its hardships, and 
of the spirit of the men who endure them so cheerfully. 

Oliver S. Currier^ was a native of Maine, who enlisted, in 
the summer of 1862, in the Thirty-Fifth Massachusetts, 
Company K, of Roxbury. He was a disciple of Christ, 
and thoroughly conscientious in all that he did. He was 
unable at first to gratify his patriotic desires, as claims 
rested on him which he felt he was not at liberty to dis- 
regard. That obstacle at length was removed. 

One night in July, a friend entered the chamber where 
he was sleeping, and awoke him to say that the way was 
now open for him to enlist as a soldier. There was no 
more sleep for him that night ; he left his bed, went out at 
midnight, and signed the roll. He had been troubled 
about a mortgage, and was anxious to provide that his 
parents should not be turned out of their home in case he 
should fall in battle. A friend having assumed that re- 
sponsibility for him, he started for Maine the next morn- 
ing, and placed a deed of the little cottage and garden in 
the hands of his fiither; and on the fourth day returned, 
entered the ranks, and went with his company to camp. 

J He was a grandson of the late Rev. Jotham Sewall, of Maine, " whose praise 
is in all the churches " as an eloquent and apostolic servant of Jesus Christ. 



228 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

Under date of September fourteenth, he writes, at South 
Mountain, "I have been in my first battle. One man out 
of the comjjany killed." This was three weeks after they 
left home. 

Three days later, at Antietam : " We went in at about 
four o'clock. Our company lost thirteen killed and thirty- 
one wounded. Have seen hard work to-day. After we 
withdrew, I only found four of our company. Our regi- 
ment was second across the bridge. I feel sad, sad^ sad." 

Well might he feel sad. The beloved commander^ of" 
his company was borne off the field with three severe 
wounds, and marks of twenty others, and every officer 
was wounded. The dear friend who called him to arms at 
midnight was among the dead, with so many others who 
had been accustomed to sing the songs of Zion with him 
in that strange land.^ 

But this sadness had no despondency in it. "Our roll- 
call has only thirty-nine names," he writes, a few days after. 
*'We are small in number, but strong in determination to 
do all we can to help put down this great eebelliox." 

We pass over references to long and exhausting marches, 
and come to the record of scenes just before the lata! bat- 
tle at Fredericksburg. 

"Nov. 22. Still lying opposite Fredericksburg; weather 
cold. We occupy a jDoor camp-ground. I am not very 
well ; a poor appetite. I wish I had a good potato to eat." 

"Sunday, 23d. Very cold. Listened to reading of 
the proclamation [for Thanksgiving] of the Governor of 
Massachusetts. I do not feel very well; have not any 



1 Captain King of Roxbury, now a lieutenant colonel and military commaa- 
dant of Lexington, Ky. 

" It may not be obtrusive for the writer to sr.y that a dear relative, a ncpliew 
and namesake, was oueof tliese brave and Chiistian young men who fell in this 
battle at Autietum. 



229 

"Monday, 24th. T wish I felt better. Have no appe- 
tite. I would like to be at home a few days; spend 
Thanksgiving there ! " 

" Wednesday, a letter from home. How it cheers the 
sick soldier to hear from the dear ones at home ! They 
long for my return. God grant my return." 

"Thursday, 27th. My Thanksgiving consisted of a little 
parched rye and a small boiled potato. I never tasted 
anything so good as that potato." 

How significant these brief sentences ! 

"Monday, Dec. 1. Letters from home. How precious 
they are ! " 

" Saturday, 6th. A cold snow-storm; oh, how cheerless ! 
Wet ground to pitch our tents on, no straw to lie on, worn- 
out shoes, green wood, short rations. A sorry time we are 
having." 

"Sunday, 7th. I got through the night, but it was 
tough. I liked to have frozen. I don't think I slept an 
hour ; up most all night ; wet feet." 

How will those who enjoy the peaceful prosperity to 
secure which our heroic soldiers are enduring such hardships, 
a few years hence, read these sentences, and how will they 
honor the memory of these noble men ! 

"Monday, 8th. Very cold last night. I am poorly 
clothed ; without overcoat. To-day it is warm and quite 
jDleasant. Health good." 

"Wednesday, 10th. Very pleasant. Cartridges dealt 
out to-day. There is to be fighting soon." 

"Thursday, 11th. Received two months' pay, $26. 
Battle of Fredericksburg. We have been under arms all 
the forenoon, expecting to be ordered into action every 
minute. Cannonading is terrific — a continuous roar since 
daybreak. I am going to send uncle J $20 by ." 

These were the last words he wrote. 

20 



230 MEMOEIALS OF THE WAR. 

The regiment went into action immediately. A cannon- 
ball took off his leg ; amputation was performed ; but he 
died the same night, and his poor body, no more to suffer 
cold or hunger, lies buried in a pleasant garden in 
Fredericksburg. 

The comfort of knowing how he was carried off the 
field, and how he was sustained, and what his last messages 
were, and all the particulars of his dying moments, is 
denied to his friends. The comfort of knowing that one 
like the Son of God was with him, and that his grace was 
sufficient, and that in peaceful and joyful triumph he fell 
asleep, — this blessed assurance his friends have. His 
religious character was so simple and natural, so consist- 
ent and unpretending, that we have no doubt what the 
closing scene was, and what heavenly joy he entered upon. 
And may God grant to every soldier like precious faith ! ^ 

" 'Twere sweet indeed to close our eyes, 

With those we cherished near, 
And, wafted upward by their sighs, 

Soar to some calmer sphere : 
But whether on the scaffold high, 

Or in the battle's van, 
The fittest place for man to die 

Is where he dies for man." 



XXYI. GENTLE AS WELL AS BRAVE. 

The late Major-General Buford was offered a major- 
general's commission in the rebel army when he was in 
Utah, at the beginning of the Rebellion. He* crushed the 
treasonable paper in his hand, and declared that he would 
live and die under the flag of the Union. 

No commander, probably, was more loved by his soldiers 

1 Abbreviated from a Tract for Soldiers. 



PICKET DUTY. 231 

than he was. A striking instance of his thoiightfal regard 
for the feelings of others is mentioned in connection with 
his death. A few hours before that event, while suffering 
from delirium, he roundly scolded his negro servant, but 
during a brief, lucid interval, understanding what he had 
done, he called the negro to his bedside and said to him, — 

"Edward, I hear I have been scolding you. I did not 
know what I was saying. You have been a faithful ser- 
vant, Edward." 

The poor negro sat down and wept as though his heart 
was broken. 

General Buford was promoted to the rank of major- 
general after he had received his fatal wound. On having 
his commission brought to him, he exclaimed, — 

" Now, I wish I could live." 

His last intelligible words, uttered during an attack of 
delirium, were, — 

" Put guards on all the roads, and don't let the men run 
back to the rear." 

It was an illustration of the ruling passion, strong in 
death. It was remarked of him that nothing so moved 
his scorn as to see men skulking or hanging on the rear. 
This gallant officer had been trained in a noble school of 
patriotism, that of the lamented Admiral Foote.^ 

How brief the interval ! Death separated them ; death 
has united them. 



XXVII. PICKET DUTY. 

The nature of this perilous service is not understood 
by every one. It is described briefly, but vividly, in the 
following sentences. The writer is a clergyman, who re- 
lates to us his own experience : — 

I See page 90, where the two are mentioned together. 



232 MEMORIALS OF THE WAE. 

Picket duty at all times is arbitrary, but at night trebly 
so. No moDarch on a throne, with absolute power, is more 
independent, or exercises greater sway for the time being, 
than a simple private soldier stationed on his beat with an 
enemy in front. Darkness veils all distinctions. He is not 
obliged to know his own officers or comrades, or the com- 
manding general, or the highest officer in the land, only 
through the means of the countersign. With musket 
loaded and capped he walks his rounds, having to do with 
matters only of life and death, and at the same time 
clothed with absolute power. 

It is a position of fearful importance and responsibility, 
one that always made me feel solemn and terribly earnest. 
Often, too, these posts are in thick woods, where the 
soldier stands alone, cut oif from camp, cut off from his 
fellows, subject only to the harassings of his imagination 
and sense of fear. The shadows deepen into inky night. 
All objects around him, even to the little birds that were 
his companions during the day, are gathered within the 
curtains of a hushed repose ; but the soldier, with every 
nerve and faculty of his mind strained to the utmost 
tension of keenness and sensibility, speaks only in low 
•whispers; his fingers tighten round the stock of his musket 
as he leans forward to catch the sound of approaching 
footsteps, or, in the absence of danger, looks longingly up 
to the cold, gray sky, with its wealth of soft and flaming 
stars. 

And what an hour for noble, lofty thought, in connection 
with the subjects of death, eternity, and the future world! 



LOCK OF HAIU FOR MOTHER. 23B 



XXYIII. LOCK OF HAIR FOR MOTHER. 

It was just after the battle of Williamsburg,^ where hun- 
dreds of our brave fellows had fallen, never to bear arms 
again in their country's cause, and where hundreds more 
were wounded, that a soldier came to the tent of a dele- 
gate of the Christian Commission and said, " Chaplain, one 
of our boys is badly wounded, and wants to see you right 
away." 

Hurrying" after the messenger, says the delegate, I was 
taken to the hospital and led to a bed, upon which lay a 
noble young soldier. He was pale and bloodstained from 
a terrible' wound above the temple. I saw at a glance that 
he had but a few hours to live upon earth. Taking his 
hand, I said to him, — 

"Well, my brother, what can I do for you?" 

The poor dying soldier looked up in ray face, and placing 
his finger where his hair was stained with his blood, he 
said, — 

" Chaplain, cut a big lock from here for mother ! for my 
mother, mind, chaplain ! " 

I hesitated to do it. He said, " Don't be afraid, chaplain, 
to disfigure my hair. It's for mother, and nobody will 
come to see me in the dead-house to-morrow." 

I did as he requested me. 

" Now, chaplain," said the dying man, " I want you to 
kneel down by me and return thanks to God." 

"For what?" I asked. 

" For giving me such a mother. Oh ! chaplain, she is a 
good mother ; her teachings comfort me and console me 
now. And, chaplain, thank God that by his grace I am a 

1 In the Peninsula, May, 18G2, 
20* 



234 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

Christian. "What would I do now if I was not a Christian ? 
I know that my Redeemer liveth. I feel that his finished 
work has saved me. And, chaplain, thank God for giving 
me dying grace. He has made my dying bed 

' Feel soft as downy pillows are.' 

Thank him for the promised home in glory. I'll soon be 
there, — there where there is no war, nor sorrow, nor deso- 
lation nor death, — where I shall see Jesus, and be forever 
with the Lord." 

I knelt by the dying man, and thanked God for the 
blessings he had bestowed upon him, — the blessings of a 
good mother, a Christian hope, and dying grace, to bear 
testimony to God's faithfulness. 

Shortly after the prayer, he said, " Good-by, chaplain ; if 
you ever see that mother of mine, tell her it was all well 
with me." 



XXIX. THE YOUNG COLOR-SERGEANT. 

At once a color-bearer in the army of his country and in 
the army of Jesus, — what prouder position than this for a 
young Christian soldier! He was General Kilpatrick's 
color-bearer, and a mere boy. His comrades all said he 
was a brave fellow. The main artery of one of his legs 
had been cut off by a Minie ball. The wound had bled 
several times while in the hospital, and he was fast sinking. 
Pie whispered to an attendant who was bendhig over him: 

"Jesus has a home in heaven for me." 

" How do you know ? " 

"Because God loves me. He loves his Son Jesus, and he 
loves me too." 

These were almost his last words. A few hours before 



NOT YET TOO LATE. 235 

his death, liis father came, truly a broken-hearted man. 
" For he was his youngest boy, — his Benjamin, — and how 
could he spare him ? " 

" I didn't want him to go ; and how, how, shall I go 
home without him ? Oh ! I am afraid it will be too much 
for the mother." 

The boy was laid in his coffin, and the ladies and little 
children of Hagerstown where he died trimmed the body 
with flowers, — though he himself was the brightest flower 
of all, destined assuredly to bloom and flourish forever in 
the Paradise above. 



. NOT YET TOO LATE. 

Among the wounded at the battle of Stone River, in 
Tennessee, was a young man. Over the mortally wounded 
son hung the anxious mother, in the deepest sorrow that 
he gave no evidence of fitness for eternal scenes. But the 
words the dying youth uttered, severely as they condemned 
himself, showed clearly his own convictions of the shame 
and wrons^ of those who nesjlect God till life is drawins; to 
a close, and hope then to obtain his favor. 

To a Christian appeal, he replied, — "If I live to get 
well, I will be a Christian ; but I will not throw the fag- 
end of my life in the face of the Almighty." He immedi- 
ately expired. 

The poor fellow certainly mistook the gospel mode of 
salvation, for faith in Christ can avail in other cases as it 
did with the dying thief in his last moments. The " fag- 
end " of his life was distinguished by an act which opened 
to him the gates of Paradise. The time may be short, but 
much may be done often in a short time. 

The striking language of the dying soldier contains a 



236 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

stinging rebuke to all tliose who practically claim the best 
of life for themselves, while they venture to put off their 
Maker with the little that remains when they are about 
to sink into the grave. ^ 



XXXI. SOLDIER, ARE TOU HUNGRY.^ 

Be kind to the soldiers. What they need is good cheer 
for the mind as well as the body, assurance of sympathy, 
proof that our hearts are with them as they go forth to peril 
their lives for us by land and sea. Brave men appreciate 
such tokens of interest in them and their work. Even a 
child may show to them kindness, the remembrance of 
which will strengthen their hearts and nerve their arms in 
the day of battle. 

A writer from Baltimore illustrates this trait of the 
soldier's character. About eighteen months ago, a northern 
regiment passed through this city on the way to Washing- 
ton. They had occasion to halt a short time in one of our 
streets, for rest and refreshment. While they were doing 
this, a little fellow approached one of the men and said, — 

" Soldier, are you hungry ? " 

" Yes, — I am," he replied ; upon which the boy invited 
him to go with him to his home near by, and there, on his 
making known the case, the family set before the hunger- 
bitten soldier a bountiful repast. 

A few weeks ago, this regiment, having served out their 
term of enlistment, passed through Baltimore again, on 
their way home. The soldier referred to had distinguished 
himself on the field, and had risen from a private to the 
rank of captain. He had not forgotten the kindness of 

1 From the Congregationalist, 



OTJR GOOD-HEARTED PRESIDENT. 237 

his little friend in Baltimore. He knew where he lived, 
sought him out, and j^resented to him a handsome photo- 
graphic album filled with likenesses of all the prominent 
generals in the Union army. Inscribed upon the back of 
the album in beautiful gilt letters, were the words, — 
" Soldier, are you hungry ? " 

This little boy is the son of a Lutheran minister in the 
city of Baltimore. 



XXXII. OUR GOOD-HEARTED PRESIDENT. 

" I have observed more than once," says Daniel Webster, 
in his eulogy on honest Zachary Taylor, " that the preva- 
lent notion with the masses of mankind for conferring high 
honors on individuals is a confidence in their mildness, 
their paternal, protecting, prudent, and safe character. 
The people naturally feel safe where they feel themselves 
to be under the control and protection of sober counsel, of 
impartial minds, and a general paternal superintendence." 

Such titles to popular confidence and favor we recognize, 
also, in the man on whom it has devolved to guide our 
ship of State through the present crisis. The people trust 
him because he has made them feel that he is unselfish and 
honest. They believe he has sought to do his duty accord- 
ing to the best of his knowledge and ability, and that con- 
viction at the bottom of their hearts has been our sheet- 
anchor; it has held us together, has buoyed up the nation's 
faith, has kept us from drifting into anarchy and ruin. It 
is a quality of character and a means of power not incou- 
Bistent with genius, but which genius alone does not con- 
fer; it is worth infinitely more to us, in a time like this, 
than any glare of military reputation, or brilliancy of 
intellect, or diplomatic skill. 



238 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 

The way to be thought upright aDcl faithful and earnest 
for the public welfare, is to be so in truth, and it is by that 
art of arts that Mr. Lincoln has so won to himself the 
hearts of the great mass of the nation. 

Incidents like the following bring out the character of 
an individual in a natural manner, and leave us in no doubt 
how we are to understand him. 

On Monday last (says a visitor at Washington),^ I drop- 
ped in upon Mr. Lincoln, and found him busy counting 
greenbacks. 

"This, sir," said he, "is something out of my usual line; 
but a President of the United States has a multiplicity 
of duties not specified in the Constitution or acts of con- 
gress. This is one of them. This money belongs to a 
poor negro who is a porter in one of the Departments (the 
Treasury), who is at present very ill with the small pox. 
He is now in hospital, and could not draw his pay because 
he could not sign his name. 

I have been at considerable trouble to overcome the 
difficulty and get it for him, and have at length succeeded in 
cutting red tape, as you newspaper men say. I am now 
dividing the money and putting by a portion labelled, in an 
envelope, with my own hands, according to his wish ; " and 
his Excellency proceeded to endorse the package very 
carefully. 

No one who witnessed the transaction could fail to 
appreciate the goodness of heart which would prompt a 
man in his situation, borne down by a weight of cares 
almost without parallel in the world's history, to turn aside 
thus and befriend one of the humblest of his fellow-crea- 
tures in sickness and sorrow. 

1 Who published the incident in the Cliicago Tribune. 



BROUGHT B^CK TO THE FOLD. 239 



XXXIII. BROUGHT BACK TO THE FOLD. 

On the evening of the battle of Rappahannock Sta- 
tion, my friend, Dr. R , of the Third Division of 

our corps, came to me, saying a man in their hospital 
wished to see a chaplain. Accompanying him, I found a 
young man about twenty years old, a member of the Tenth 
Massachusetts, with his leg crushed and mangled by a piece 
of shell. The shock had been so severe that amputation 
was useless, and he was sinking rapidly. 

Expressing himself glad to see me, I inquired his relig- 
ious history. It was the same old story, — a bright hope 
— active church-membership — army life — army irregular- 
ities, and the abandonment of his profession. 

"And now," said he, "if there can be forgiveness for 
such a wanderer, pray for me." 

I confess I felt more backwardness than was right. A 
circle of coarse soldiers stood there, surveying the solemn 
scene with mere morbid curiosity. Another group stood 
there, more educated and refined, — a knot of surgeons, 
some of whom, I knew, had no belief in God or eternity, 
and considered my interview with the dying man as at best 
but amiable officiousness. But there lay the sinking sufferer, 
and I wore the uniform of a minister of Christ, and bending 
over the table where he lay, I asked the Good Shepherd to 
give assurance of j^ardon to the wandering sheep. I dared 
not remind the boy that he was dying the noblest death 
that mortal man can die, but held up his case merely as 
that of a lost sinner, whose redemption must come, not 
from that horrid shell-wound, or the blood that, for his 
country's sake, was trickling from that mangled limb, but 
from the blood shed upon Calvary, and the wounds of a 



240 MEMORIALS OF* THE WAR. 

slain Reclcemer. Tliroi^iout tlie prayer, his miirraured 
responses and fervent ejaculations disclosed his own earnest- 
ness in the petition, and the smothered hope revived again ; 
and, faint at first, but growing brighter and brighter, there 
finally beamed in full radiance on his soul that faith which 
supports in the stern hour. 

Meanwhile, there stood beside the table a noble-looking 
young fellow, a little older than the dying soldier, moistening 
his lips, and afiectionately smoothing tlie hair from his brow, 
but so perfectly calm and collected, I supposed he was 
merely one of the hospital attendants. A remark of some 
one present started my suspicion, and I asked, — 

" Is this a friend of yours ? " 

Said he, " It is my younger brother." 

So calm was his voice, and so composed his manner 
throughout the wdiole, that the thing seemed impossible, 
except that often those who feel most deeply manifest it 
the least. 

He said to his brother, " S , what shall I tell mother 

for you?" 

"Tell her I died for my country," was the prompt and 
noble reply. 

"Give me a kiss for her," said the other; and the 
bronzed face bowed down to the pale lips as tenderly as if 
they had been those of an infant. More than one in the 
tent turned to hide his tears, and the two brothers seemed 
most moved of all. 

The dying boy sank rapidly, but the clouds vanished from 
his mind, and his faith grew bright and strong. I repeated, 
"I know that my Redeemer liveth;" "The Lord is my 
Shepherd, I shall not want ; " " In my Fatlier's house are 
many mansions ; " and still other passages. I recited, also, 
the beautiful hymn : — 

" Kock of ages, cleft for me," 



BROUGHT BACK TO THE FOLD. 2-11 

and those lines, especially dear when the couch of dissolu- 
tion was a rough board table in a dark, cold tent, with 
merely a knapsack to rest the head upon, — 

" Jesus can make a dying bed 
Feel soft as downy pillows are." 

The hymns of Zion had been familiar to him at home, 
and he tried to repeat, — 

" Jesus, lover of my soul." 

That was always a favorite hymn of mine, and I repeated 
it to him entire. It seemed to give him a great deal of 
comfort, and to strengthen him even more than the rest 
had done. 

But his voice was already beginning to fail. Said he, 
" There's ^=— a — silver — pencil — in — pocket ." 

He evidently wished to send it to some one for a keep- 
sake, and it was with the deepest sorrow we saw he was 
unable to speak friendship's last message. There was but 
one friend of whom he had power to speak now. He had 
lain for some minutes perfectly motionless. I thought all 
was over. But all at once he roused up and said, — 

"'Jesus, lover of my soul.' Oh, repeat that again ! " 

My voice clioked up so that I could hardly speak. With 
broken utterances I once more went through with the 
beautiful stanzas. But I know not if he heard me, for I 
could not have got to the last verse before " the storm of 
life" was over; "the haven" was reached, and "the billows" 
had died away in eternal peace. ^ 

1 From the N. Y, Examiner, 
21 



242 MEMORIALS OF THE WAR. 



XXXV. THE CURRENT BETWEEN HOME AND CAMP. 

Some of the marks fastened on the blankets, shirts, and 
other gifts sent to the Sanitary Commission for the sol- 
diers, show the thought and feeling at home. Thus, on a 
homespun blanket, worn, but washed as clean as snow, 
was pinned a bit of paper, which said, " This blanket was 
carried by Milly Aldrich (who is ninety-three years old), 
down hill and up hill, one and a half miles, to be given to 
some soldier." 

On a bed-quilt was pinned a card, saying, " My son is in 
the army. Whoever is made warm by this quilt, which I 
have worked on for six days and the greater part of six 
nights, let him remember his o^vn mother's love." 

On another blanket was this : " This blanket was used by 
a soldier in the war of 1812; may it keep some soldier 
warm in this war against traitors." 

On a pillow was written : " This pillow^ belonged to my 
little boy, who died resting on it ; it is a precious treasure 
to me, but I give it for the soldiers." 

On a pair of woollen socks was written : " These stock- 
ings were knit by a little girl five years old, and she is go- 
ing to knit some more, for mother says it will help some 
i:>oor soldier." 

On a box of beautiful lint was this mark : " Made in a 
sick-room, where the sunlight has not entered for nine 
years, but where God has entered, and where two sons 
have bid their mother good-by, as they have gone out to 
the war." 

On a bundle containing bandages was written : " This is 
a i)Oor gift, but it is all I had ; I have given my husband 
and my boy, and only wish I had more to give ; but I 
have not." 



nOME-LIXKS OF THE WAR. 243 

On some eye-shades was marked: "Made by one who 
is blind, pii, how I long to see the dear old flag that you 
are all fio'htius: under! " 

XXXVI. HOME-LINKS OF THE WAR. 

The ReA^. Robert J. Parvin, a laborer for the Christian 
Commission, related the following history, at a recent meet- 
ing of that Association, in the Hall of Representatives at 
Washington. 

At Gettysburg (said he), in the Fifth Corps Hospital, of 
wliich I had charge in the Christiaa Commission's work for 
a few weeks, I had occasion to see howliaany home-links 
there are between our work and the last hours of dying 
soldiers. I remember well a captain from the State of 
Maine, of the 20th Maine Volunteers, who was brought into 
that old barn, wliere were sixty-nve of the worst cases in 
the whole corps. Oh, they were all sadly wounded ! The 
brave fellow had some of his own men lying on the floor 
not far from him. He loved them with a father's love. As 
one after another they died around him, it worked so upon 
his mind that he became a raving maniac, unti] it took four 
or five to hold him. With great difficulty we got him 
away from his men who were dying, — in a room by him- 
self, — and he rallied. The surgeon went in to see him. 
He came out and I passed in. The surgeon had told me 
he could not live. If he had had a primary amputation — 
an amputation, that is, on the field — he might have recov- 
ered, but he could not now. 

I took him by the hand. His first words were, " Chap- 
lain (for such they call us), wliat did the surgeon say ? " 
" Why, captain, you are in a critical case." 
"I know that, chaplain; but does the surgeon think I 
can live? " 



244 ME^tORIALS OF THE WAR. 

" lie thinks it is hardly possible that you will live, cap- 
tain." 

"My wife, chaplain, — have you heard from her since 
your message yesterday?" 

" No ; we have received no answer. The lines are in the 
hands of the Government, which needs them ; perhaps 
that is the reason we cannot get an answer at once. We 
hope she will be here." 

" Does the surgeon say I cannot live long, chaplain ? " 

"Yes; but you are a Christian man, Capt. Billings?" 

"Yes, chaplain, I have no fears. I left my place in the 
Sabbath school for my ^lace in the army. My hope is in 
the Lord Jesus Christ. I have tried to serve him in the 
army, and he will not forsake me now. I would like to see 
my wife," he continued, as his thoughts recurred to that 
dear one. 

"Well, captain, if you have anything to say, will you 
give the message to me? " 

He asked me to give her his knapsack and sword, and 
other little things that he mentioned ; and if she came, the 
message he wished me to deliver ; and then he seemed to 
dismiss all these things from his mind, as he lay there calm, 
peaceful, a dying man as well as a dying soldier, and, abo\e 
all, a dying Christian. 

"Now," said he, at length, "don't stay longer with me. 
Go and minister to the boys, and run in here as you can to 
read a few words of Scripture to me, and kneel down and 
pray witli me." 

After I had prayed with him, he said to me, " Could you 
have my body embalmed and sent home ? I lost ray money 
on the field?" 

" Cei'tainly, ca])tain, it shall be done; give yourself no 
further thouaht about tliat." 



HOME-LINKS OF THE WAR. 245 



At no other time did he refer todt, but passed away as 
a dying Christian, triumphing over all the horrors of war, 
over all the sad circumstances around him. It was in the 
morning at eleven o'clock that he passed away. At five 
o'clock that afternoon his body was sent to the embalmer's. 
At ten o'clock that night, as I was busy writing letters 
from memoranda, taken through the day, a knock was 
heard at my door. "Walk in," I responded. A man 
stepped in, inquiring, " Is Captain Billings, of the 20th 
Maine, here ? " 

What a question for us to meet! But I thought of the 
home-link. " Who are you ? " I asked. 

«I am his brother. I have his Avife with me! I have 
buoyed her up this long way with the hope that we would 
find the captain in good condition. Where is he, sir?'' ^ 

« You have not brought the captain's wife out here with 
you to-night ? " The corps hospital was four miles from 
Gettysburg. 

" No ; I left her in town for to-night." 
« Oh, it is well ; the body of your brother was sent to the 
embalmer's at five o'clock this afternoon ! " 

"Oh! oh!" said he, "I cannot tell her! I cannot tell 
her ! I cannot trust myself to tell her, or even to see her 
again, to-night ! " 

The poor man seemed overcome. " I cannot see her," 
he continued; " I have brought her on, all the way to Get- 
tysburg, and now you must, you must tell her all." 

And so our duty was to see the wife and deliver to her 
the messages and the tokens of dying love of her husband, 
and speak to her words of comfort in the name of the 
Lord ! His body was carried on to the State of Maine to 
repose with those of his kindred there. 



21* 



246 MEMORIALSC)F THE WAR. 



XXXVI. A PLEA FOK THE CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 

Some account of General Howard, of Maine, has been 
given on a previous page.^ This gallant officer and decided 
witness for Christ was one of the speakers at the great 
meeting in Philadelphia, on the 28th of January, the sec- 
ond anniversary of the United States Christian Commis- 
sion. Such a man has a right to be heard. No words 
could be more appropriate to place here, as the last words 
to linger on our ears as we bring these pages to an end, 
than the following sentences from the speech of this Chris- 
tian j^atriot, on that occasion. 

I may be allowed (said he) to speak freely to the friends 
who are here to-night. Let me tell you one thing which I 
jieed not suppress, if I could, and that is, that I feel in my 
heart a deep and abiding interest in the cause of my Re- 
deemer. I know that this is also the cause of tlic Christian 
Commission, and, therefore, I love it, and identify myself 
with it ; and I doubt not that you love it, and will do ev- 
erything you can for it, for a like reason. And now, I ask 
you — as I am to go back to the field to take up my cross 
anew, and to stand up night and day, evening and morning, 
for the cause of him that I love — that your earnest, im- 
portunate jDrayers may follow me, and that God wojLild 
bless the soldiers, that evil may be repressed among them, 
and that when they go into battle they may go without a 
fear, because they know in wdiom they have believed. 

My friends, I heard a general once say (he was not a 
Christian General), in reference to General JNIagruder, on 
the other side, that he could not be a very brave man, nor 
have true courage, because he was such a prof me and wick- 
ed man, and delighted to lead the young into shame and 

1 See Chapter III, page 78. 



A PLEA FOK THE CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 247 

degradation. I am sure he was right. I assert thiit the 
higliest type of courage is Christian courage. When your 
spirit yearns up to God in the prayer, " O, Lord, be ray 
protector, and in this peril let me run under the shadow of 
thy wing," then you will fear no evil, though you walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death. 

My friends, these things are realities with me. By the 
blessing of God, by his Spirit, he has enabled me to have a 
clear conviction that, should he take me away, I shall go to 
be with him. Not because I am good or holy or right- 
eous ; but because I have a Saviour, an all-sufficient Sa- 
viour, who is able to save even the chief of sinners unto the 
uttermost. Therefore I am able to say that I can go into 
the battle fearing no evil. And would to God, for their 
sakes, that every officer in the array and every soldier in 
the ranks could declare, in sincerity from the depths of his 
heart, that God had done such great things for him ! 

These to me are settled, solemn convictions, and I speak 
them freely and frankly, as I am encouraged to do on this 
auspicious occasionr It may seem to some that it is ex- 
pressing oue's private feelings too publicly ; but I think it 
well for me to bear such testimony in a work like yours, 
which contemplates this great and all-important result, — 
the promotion of heart-religion and the salvation of souls. 
And especially do I feel this, in these times of excitement 
and terror, over the mere temporal accessories of war, the 
dreadful sacrifice of lives, the horrible sights of wounds, the 
caring for the wounded and sick, the lamentations for the 
dead, — amid all this I fear that the still, small voice has 
not always been listened to, the silent and beautiful, though 
wonderful work of the Spirit of God has not been seen, 
and its importance felt as it should be in our land. This 
the Christian Commission is striving to accomplish ; it seeks 
to keep alive the spirit of Christianity among our soldiers. 



248 MEMORIALS OF Till: WAR. 

Tlieir ngoncy is the leavei) in our anines. Mi;y tlicy leaven 
the whole lump! It is this only that will prepare us for 
our liberties. This bond, the bond of Christian love, ig the 
true bond, after all, that shall permanently nnite us. There 
is no other. We speak of the chains of commerce and 
trade, of corn and cotton, that will unite the sections of 
our country, — but these are temporary, fluctuating, perish- 
ing links. The religion of Jesus Christ is the lasting bond 
that connects not only Maine with Massachusetts, and Mas- 
sachusetts with Connecticut, but Maine with Texas, and 
Florida with Wisconsin. 

We boast of being an asylum for all nations. From 
England, Ireland, France, Germany, Russia, and almost ev- 
ery country beyond the ocean, come men, women, and chil- 
dren, who settle down in the midst of us. How shall we 
cause them to assimilate to us ? How shall we ever make 
them good and useful citizens ? Will it be, think you, by 
merely giving them land on which to settle ? Will they 
become one with us, because they grow in material wealth 
and prosperity ? No, no ! Nothing but an education, a 
true Education of heart and morals, such as the religion of 
Jesus Christ imparts, can ever truly and safely assimilate 
all these heterogeneous elements, and enable us to be truly 
one people. 

The gospel has its victories to achieve for us as well as 
the sword. Many of the rebels hated us more before the 
war than they do now. They respect us much more than 
they once did, alter seeing that we are not afraid to expose 
our bodies to be burned, if necessary, in a just cause, — the 
cause of our country that we love, — that we shrink from 
no sacrilice of money, time, or life, in order to maintain 
and perpetuate the beautiful government that our fathei-s 
bequeathed to us. 

But this is not all. They have felt, too, the power of 



A PLEA FOR THE CHRISTIAN COMMISSION. 249 

the spirit of kindness and love, of which theN-eligion of 
Jesus has borne so many fruits in this^struggle. They have 
been astonished at the kindness which has been shown to 
them when they have fallen into our hands. It was this 
that demoralized them at Vicksburg. In the West the 
rebels are not so violent as they were. When they come 
into our lines now, they say they were forced to fight, that . 
they are Union men, and always were Union men. And 
they are coming in every day. We have just heard that 
Bince General Rosecrans took command of the Cumberland 
Army, eight thousand have delivered themselves up to us. 
And do they hate us ? No ! We have melted them down 
by Christian kindness and love. And, my friends, this is the 
way to disarm them. I believe, and say it with emphatic 
assurance, that if we all have the spirit of the Master in 
our hearts we shall demoralize them wherever we find 
them! 

I do not advocate any shrinking back, or checking of the 
terrible steeds of war. No ! Fill up the ranks. Make 
them full. Make the next campaign more vigorous than 
any that has gone before it, so that it shall be, by the divine" 
help, perfectly impossible for the rebels to keep the field. 
But let us wield this power along with the alleviating and 
saving influences of the religion of Christ. Let these, as 
diffiised by the Christian Commission, and in other ways, 
follow our armies everywhere, blessing friend and foe alike, 
and we shall then cause the enemy to come into our lines, 
not only by the eight thousand, but by the sixteen and the 
sixty thousand. It is this that will ruin their cause, and 
finally break down their opposition. 

This terrible revolution has been brought upon us, by the 
overruling hand of a wise Providence, among its other ef- 
fects, to tear out from among us the roots of prejudice, 
— prejudice of the bitterest kind, that of races. Butnoth- 



250 MEMORIALS^!' THE WAR. 

ing is too hard in tlie end for Christian love and chanty 
and truth ; and that 'spirit assuredly will prevail, and we 
shall yet come together and be one people, whose God is 
the Lord. Let us resolve anew, as we go hence, that, as 
for us, we will all do what we can for our country, our sol- 
diers, and the cause of Christ. 

■' Lord, while for all mankind we pray, 

Of every clime and coast, 
Oh, hear us for our native land, — 
The land we love the most. 

Oh, guard our shores from every foe; 
With peace our borders bless, — 
Our cities with prosperity. 
Our fields with plenteousness. 

Unite us in the sacred love 

Of knowledge, truth, and thee, 
And let our hills and valleys chant 

The songs of liberty. 

Lord of the nations, thus to thee 

Our country we commend ; 
Be thou her refuge and her trust, — 

Her everlasting Friend." 



INDEX 



Some matters are set fortli here not represented in the general Table of 
Contents, at the beginning of the volume. Names of persons and places are 
given somewhat fully, because they suggest to many readers the points of chief 
interest in the book. 



Adams, an Illinois soldier, 1C6. 

Album of our generals, 237. 

Aldrich, Milly, the gift of an old man, 
242. 

Allen, C. A., chaplain from Indiana, 
138. 

Alvord, Rev. J. W., Secretary of the 
Tract Society, communications 
from, 49, 79, 123, 131, 166. 

Ambrotype of unknown children, 201. 

Andei'son, Major, abandons Fort Moul- 
trie, 182; his speech to a Sunday 
school, 191. 

Andrew, B— , of Brooklyn, N. Y., 79. 

Andrews, Lorin, President of Kenyon 
College, 16. 

Angel of the hospital, 150. 

Angels, an object of interest to, 54. 

Antietam visited after battle, 173; the 
slaughter there, 228. 

April 19th, henceforth doubly memora- 
ble, 200. 

Army Hymn, why so popular, 189. 

Articles of Faith, 129. 



B , Rev. Mr., one of the chaplains, 

161. 

Ball's Bluff, an exploit in the battle of, 
196. 

Barrows, W., Rev., interesting letter of, 
44. 

" Banner of the Covenant " quoted, 26. 

Banks, General, campaign in Virginia, 
169. 

Baptism, the nation's, 33. 

Bartimseus, of wliom the type, 45. 

Baton Rouge, letter from, 47. 

Bass, Rev. Mr., N. Y. chaplain, 58. 

Bethune Dr., lines of, 183. 

Bealton Station, where the chaplains 
met, 147. 

Bentley, Wm. C, of Rhode Island, 111. 

Berry General, at Williamsburg, 23. 

Bibles, donation of, 26; the best pro- 
tectors, 92; found on the battle- 
field, 186. 

Bible-men, 28. 

Billings, Captain, of Maine, his death 
at Gettysburg, 243, 



251 



252 



INDEX 



Billy, the drummer-boy, 102. 

Birch, Major, with Gen. Mitchell, 148. 

Bomb-proof, a phice of prayer, "4. 

" Boston Recorder " cited, 132, 218. 

Bradley, Ilev. D. M., a patriotic mis- 
sionary, J 93. 

Broadhead, Colonel, his last words, 31. 

Brown, Robert A., cliaplain, 28. 

Buford, Colonel, 90; his last words, 231. 

Bdll Run battle, iticidents of, 65. 

Burnside, General, his character, 184, 
223. 



C. 



Camp j^elson, Ky., the unlettered sol- 
dier-boy, 211. 

Canada steamer, scene on board of, 92. 

Caulield, Herman, Colonel, his triumph 
in death, Gi. 

Carney, William H., heroic defence of 
his flag, 115; his history, 116. 

Carolina city, letter from, 25. 

Catholic woman's piety, 127. 

Cavjiliers, English, 185. 

Cemetery, National, at Gettysburg, 195. 

Chadlow, Rev. Mr., circumstance men- 
tioned by, 101. 

Chain bridge, on the Potomac, 74. 

Charley, how he died, 117. 

Chase, John W., and his brother, of 
Rhode Island, 25. 

Chase, Chaplain, of Maine, 151. 

Chase, Secretary of the Treasury, let 
ter of, 194. 

Chicago Sanitary Commission, 67. 

" Chicago Tribune," cited, 104, 238. 

" Christian Advocate," article from, 38. 

Christ's soldiers in battle, 77. 

Christmas night of 1860, for what mem- 
orable, 182. 

Church members in the army, 22. 

Churches, regimental, 123. 

" Cincinnati Gazette," referred to, 37. 

Clark, Chaplain, of Swampscot, Mass. 
95. 

Clark, Rev. Bishop, of Rhode Island 
statement of, 184. 

Collins, quotation fl'om, 99. 

" Cougregationalist," referred to, 236. 

Connecticut Ninth, Colonel Cahill, 68. 



Conscience of the country aroused, 15 
Contrabands, preaching to, 148. 
Colton, Chaplain, of Indiana, 48. 
Congress, frigate, destruction of, 102. 
Courage, moral, example of, 17. 
Cromwell's motto, 185. 
Cross how made easy, 82. 
Cumberland, late of that vessel, 102. 
Currier, Oliver S., his diary, 227. 

D. 

" Daily Advertiser," Boston, referred 

to, 103. 
Davis, Commodore, commended, 54. 
Decision, Christian, 16. 
De Soto, scene on board of, 56, 
Devereux, Lieut.-Colonel, Mass., 177. 
Donelson, Fort, incident there, 85. 
Douglas Hospital, death of a soldier 

in, 158. 
Duffield, Mrs., letter to the Christian 

Commission, 13i. 
Duffield, H. M., adjutant, 135. 
Dying for one's enemies, 2Z2. 



E. 



Eagerness for religious reading, 141. 

Eckington Hospital, 224. 

Elkhart, Michigan, home of a brave sol- 
dier, 37. 

Ellsworth's avengers, 51. 

Evans. Rev. Mr., of Connecticut, .30. 
I Emancipation proclaimed, 189. 

"Examiner," New York, referred to, 
241. 

Example, personal, power of, 79. 



F. 



Faith in Christ, its power, 42, 119, 122. 

Fair Oaks, battle of, 110. 

Fifty-fourth Mass., colored troops, 113. 

Flag, next to the cross, 18. 

Flag, which way it points, 213; used as 

a pall, 217. 
Flag-raising at Sumter, 183. 
Flag-ship Benton, scene on board of, 54. 



INDEX 



253 



Foote, Admiral, his death, 57; a pray- 
ing commander, 89. 
Forgiveness, illustration of, 148. 



Gaylord, , chaplain of the Mass, 

I'welfth, 188. 
Gettysburg, battle of, 186. 
Gilder, Chaplain, New York, 151. 
Gospel, ameliorating spirit of, 91. 
Gospel, designed for all, 211. 
Gough, Mr., his speech, 100. 
Graton, Edward R,, of Clapville, Mass., 

142. 
Graves, " lonely," 99. 
Griffith, Captain, his peaceful end, 01. 
Gustavus Adolpluis, his army, 185. 

H. 

Harrison, Colonel, of the Seventieth 
Indiana, 138. 

Hagerstown, Md., a funeral there, 235. 

Hamistou, father of the Portvilie chil- 
dren, 201. 

Hampton lioads, sea-fight there, 102. 

Havelock's Highlanders, 49. 

Henry, John, of Indiana, the Sabbath- 
school teacher, 40. 

Hero, the true one, 219. 

Holmes, Dr. O. W., his ".Hymn," 189. 

Hope for the bereaved, 128. 

Hopkinton, N. H.. soldier from, 47. 

Hospitals, labors in, 69. 

Houses of Congress, their vote for a 
fast, 187. 

Howard, General, of Maine, his char- 
acter, 78; at a friend's death-bed, 
60 ; his speech at Philadelphia, 246. 

Hymn, the last on earth, 85. 



I. 



Illinois Eighty-third Regiment, bravery 
of, at Fort Donelson, 166. 

Iowa First Regiment, drummer-boy 
of, 106. 

Indiana Thirteenth, an experience of 
their chaplain, 27. 

Ironsides, who they were, 27. 



jr. 



Jackson, Stonewall, in the Shenandoah, 

109. 
James, Rev. Mr., chaplain, Mass., 143. 
" Jamie " they called him, 161. 
"Journal," Boston, extract from, 22. 



Keepsakes of the dead, 226. 

Kenyon College, Ohio, its patriotic 

President, 16. 
Kilpatrick, General, his color-bearer, 

233. 
Kindness, etfect of, 210, 249. 
King, Captain, of Roxbury, Mass., his 

bravery, 228. 
Knapsack, its contents, 157; sent home 

as the last gift, 244. 



li. 



Lasher, chaplain of the Connecticut 
Fifth, 188. 

Leasure, D., Colonel of the Ninth 
Pennyslvania Regiment, 27. 

Lee, Edward, the Tennessee drummer- 
boy, 104. 

Lee's Mill, battle of, 75. 

Lexington, Mass., the battle there, re- 
ferred to, 200. 

Life's "fag-end," 235. 

Lincoln, President, attempt to assassi- 
nate, 180; proceeds to Washington, 
181 ; remarks of, at Steubenville, 
182 ; appoints a fast, 187 ; proclaims 
emancipation, 190; reply of, to the 
Synod, 192 ; anecdote of, 237. 

Lock and key found at the right mo- 
ment, 51. 

Long Bridge, station of the Mass. Thir- 
teenth, 34. 

Lord's Prayer, how expressive, 98. 

Lutzen, in Germany, battle of, 185, 

Lyceums in the army, 52. 



25i 



¥ 



DE X 



M. 



3Iacaul*.7's character of the Puritans, 
185. 

Magrncle?, the rebel jjenorjil, 240. 

Malion, Kev. Mr., of Micliijjan, 28. 

INIalveni Hill, an incident there, 53. 

IMartyrology of the church, 42. 

jMcIlvainc, Bishop of Ohio, discourse 
of, 10, 

Marks, Rev. Dr., describes a revival, 
128. 

Martyrs, unnamed, 199. 

Massachusetts Second, at Stoneman's 
Station, 45. 

Massachusetts Nineteenth, crossing the 
Rappahannock, 177. 

Massacliusetts Twenty-second, prayer- 
meeting of, S:]. 

Means, Rev. J. O., of Roxbury, sermon 
by, 175. 

Memphis Hospital, 83. 

Michigan Seventh, at Fredericksburg, 
121. 

Midnight summons, 227. 

Mind triumphant over the body, 64. 

Ministry, mark of a true one, 212. 

Mitchell, General, as a preacher, 44; 
account of his death, 154; strildng 
remark of. 203. 

Morris Island, attack on the fortress 
there, 112. 

3Iouitor, the, decides the victory, 103. 

Mothers, how much they suffer, 60 ; 
influence of, 146; prayers of, an- 
swered, 140; dying testimony to, 
198, 234. 

Moultrie, Fort, abandoned, 182. 



N. 



Nantucket, Mass., its brave soldier, 98. 

Newburyport, Mass., its unnamed sol- 
dier, 120. 

Newcomb, Edgar M., of Boston, his 
character and death, 175. 

New England Rooms in New York, 53. 

"New London" gunboat, at work, 69. 



New York Seventh, on the way to 
Washington, 72. 

New York Fortieth Regiment, its his- 
tory, 151. 

North Mountain, Virginia, a death 
there, 109. 



Ohio Ninth Brigade, at Shelbyville, 
Tenn., 44. 



Pantomime of a battle, 93. 
Paragraph, remarkable one in a will, 24. 
Park St. Church, Boston, a funeral 

there, 172. 
Parvin, Rev. J., touching recital of, 243. 
Pastor cliosen captain, 21. 
Patent Office Hospital, a death there, 

108. 
Peck, Solomon, D.D., a communication 

from, 27. 
Pennsylvania Sixth, with its church, 

124; Sixty-tliird, a scene in the 

camp of, 152. 
Phelps, Captain, on board the Benton, 

55. 
Pohlman, the missionary in China, 20; 

his son slain in battle, 21. 
Pollard, W. S., of the Thirteenth Mass., 

144. 
Prayer how answered, 146. 
Prayer and work, 35. 
Prejudice of races, how inveterate, 249, 
Psalm, nineteenth, applied, 73. 
Putnam, W. Lowell, of Boston, his 

heroism, 95. 



Quint, A. H., Chaplain of the Mass. 
Second, 126; his address to the 
soldiers, 188. 



INDEX. 



255 



Rappahannock, crossing of, 177. 
Eebels, kind to a Union soklior, 85. 
Reed, chaplain of the Penn. Thirtieth, 

ISS. 
Repentance, never too late, 235. 
Rhode Islanders, .'(i. 
Riclimond, the prison in, 6i. 
Rock used as a pulpit, 44. 
Russel, Colonel, of Connecticut, his 

conversion and death, 72. 



S , of the Mass, Tenth, 240. 

Sabbath, how spent at Beaufort, S. C, 
29. 

Saflbrd, Mary, her hospital labors, 66. 

Simpson, Bishop, his sermon at Chi- 
cago, 17. 

Sanders, General, his death, 222. 

Savage, Rev. Mr., a workman for 
Christ, 88. 

Scorner, reproved, 43. 

Scott, William, pardoned by the Presi- 
dent, 75; circumstances of his 
death, 75. 

Scripture, power of, 73, 84. 

Sedgwick, General, anecdote of, 206. 

Sewell, Rev. Jonathan, of Maine, 227. 

Servants of Christ, their reward, 41. 

Shaw, Robert G., Colonel, circumstan- 
ces of his death, 112. 

Shiloh, an event of the battle there, 18. 

Ship Island, the first Sabbath there, 68. 

Sidney, Sir Philip, at Zutphen, 96. 

Smith, J. M., of Maine, his talents and 
heroic end^ 22. 

Smith, Governor, of the State of Rhode 
Island, 213. 

Smith, Joseph, Lieut., killed on board 
the Congress, 103. 

Stars at night, the teaching of, 19, 63. 

Statesmanship, what is essential to it, 
180. 

Steadman, Levi, of the Sixth Wiscon- 
sin, 134. 



Stoever, Prof., of Gettysburg, articles 
from, ()0, 125. 

Strickland, Rev. 3Ir., at Gen. Mitchell's 
death-bed, 148. 

Stuart, George H., President of the 
Christian Commission, 135. 

Sublimity of suffering, 110. 

Sweetser, Francis, of the Massachu- 
setts Sixteenth, 111. 

T. 

Taylor, Zachary, eulogy on, 2-37. 
Tennessee, East, sermon preached on 

its mountains, 44, 
Thompson, John H.,the collegian, 169. 
Tract Society, American, report of, 89. 
Trowbridge, the dying sentinel, 207. 
Twentieth Maine Volunteers, an officer 

of. 243. 
Twenty-second Mass., prayer-meeting 

of, 45. 
Twenty -fourth New York, Christian 

men in, 49. 



Unadilla, New York, its noble soldier 

58. 
Union of the States, worth dying for^ 

.32. 
Union, the true bond of, 248. 
Union soldiers, graves of, at Fred- 
ericksburg, 122. 
Uniontown, Ky., skirmish there, 40. 

V. 

Van Shaick, George, the pastor's son, 

58. 
Vermont Third Regiment, one of their 

heroes, 74. 
Vermont Twelfth Regiment, their Sab- 
bath school, 137. 
Veterans in the service, 152. 
Vicksburg, the siege of, 91. 
Victory over the fears of death, 244. 
Volunteer, the first one in Ohio, 16. 
Volunteers, the Fifty-ninth, of New 

York, 20. 



256 



INDEX 



W. 

War, " tearful," 59. 

War, what it costs, 175. 

Warren, Charles, of Massachusetts, his 

fortitude, 0(5. 
Washington, Captain, of Dubuque, 

Iowa, '.)!. 
Webster, Daniel, a remark of, 237. 
Western cliurches, how fully represent- 
ed in the army, 22. 
Weston, Kev. Dr., New York, chaplain, 

73. 
William B , of Massachusetts, his 

last prayer, 157. 
William ,T , of Maine, his last 

request, 125. 
Williams, Captain, died at Beaufort, 

S. C, 155. 
Williamsburg, Va., incidents of the 

battle there, 23, 101, 234. 
Winchester, Va, suffering of our 

wounded there, 214. 



Wisconsin Sixth Regiment, death of 
one of its soldiers, 133. 

Woman, the only white one at Win- 
chester, Va., 2!G. 

Woman, gift of our blind, 243. 

Women benmolent labors of, in hos- 
pitals, 0(3. 

Wounds, how various, 219. 

Y. 

Yorktown, attack on, 24. 

Yorktown, relics of the Revolution 

there, 75; music heard by night, 

204. 
Young, the, advice to, by General 

Anderson, 190. 

Z. 

Zeal, patriotic, signal instance of, 21. 
Zion, hymns of, their power. 224, 241. 
" Zion's Advocate," article accredited 
to, 203. 



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GOTTTIOLD'S EMBLEMS ; or, Invisible TJiings Understood by Things that 
are Made. By Christian Scriver. Tr. from the 28th German Ed. by 
liev. KoBKRT Menzies. 8vo, cloth, $1.00 Tine Edition, Tinted Paper, 
royal 8vo, cloth, S1.50. 

THE STILL HO TJR ; or. Communion with God. By Prof. Austin Phelps, 
D. D., of Andover Theological Seminary. 16mo, cloth. 38 cents. 

LESSONS AT THE CROSS; or, Spiritual Truths Familiarly Exhibited in 
their Relations to Christ. By Samuel Hopkins, author of " The Puritans," 
etc. Introduction by George W. Blagden, D. D. 16mo, cloth. 75 cents. 

NEW ENGLAND THEOCRACY. From the German of Uhden's History 
of the Congregationalists of New England. Introduction by Keandeu. 
By Mrs. H. C. Conant. 12uio, ^oth. $1.00. 

EVENINGS WITH THE DOCTRINES. By Rev. Nehemiah Adams, 
D. D. 12mo, cloth. 

THE STATE OF THE IMPENITENT DEAD. By Alvah Hovey, 
D. D., Prof, of Christian Theology in Newton Theol. Inst. 16mo, cloth. 
50 cents. 

FOOTSTEPS OF OUR FOREFATHERS; what they Suffered and what 
the)^ Sought. Describing Localities, Personages, and Events, in the Struggles 
for Religious Liberty. By James G. Miall. Illustrations. 12mo, cloth. 

$1.00. • • 

MEMORIALS OF EARLY CHRISTIANITY. Presenting, in a graphic 
form. Memorable Events of Early Ecclesiastical History, etc. By Rev. J. 
G. Miall. With Illustrations. 12mo, cloth. $1.00. 

THE MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. The most important Discourses in 
the language on Christian Missions, by distinguished American Authors. 
Edited by Baron Stow, D. D. 12mo, cloth. 85 cents. 

THE RELIGIONS OF THE WORLD, and their Relations to Christianity. 
By Frederick Denison Maitrice, Prof, of Divinity in King's Coll., Lon- 
don. IGmo, cloth. 60 cents. 

THE CHRISTIAN WORLD UNMASKED. By John Berridge, A.M., 
Vicar of Everton, Bedfordshire. With a Life of the Author, by Rev. 
Thomj^ Guthrie, D. D. 16mo, cloth. 50 cents. 

THE EXCELLENT WOMAN, as described in the Book of Proverbs. With 
an Introduction by W. B. Sprague, D. D. Twenty-four splendid Illustra- 
tions. 12mo, cloth. $1.00. 

MO THERS OF THE WISE AND G OD. By Jabez Burns, D. D. 16mo, 
cloth. 75 cents. 

THE SIGNET-RING, and its Heavenly Motto. From the German. Illus- 
trated. 16mo, cloth, gilt. 31 cents. 

THE MARRIAGE-RING; or, How to IMakc Home Happy. From the writ- 
ings of John Angell James. Bcautilully Jlluslrated edition. IGmo, 
clotli, gilt. 75 cents. 



(EDUCATIOi^AL.) 



LECTURES ON METAPHYSICS. By Sm William Hamilton. Wim 
Notes from original materials. 8vo, cloth. $3.00. 

LECTURES ON LOGIC. By Sir William Hamilton. With an Appen- 
dix, containing the author's latest development of his new Logical theory. 
8vo, cloth. 

ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. By Francis Wayland, D. D., late 
President of Brown University. 12mo, cloth. $1.25. 

THE SAME, Abridged for Schools and Academies, half morocco. 50 cents. 

ELEMENTS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. By Francis Wayland, 
D. i). 12mo, cloth. §1.25. 

THE SAME, Abridged for Schools and Academies, half morocco. 50 cents. 

MENTAL PHILOSOPHY; including the Intellect, the Sensibilities, and the 
Will. By Joseph Haven, D. D. 12mo, cloth. $1.50. 

MORAL PHILOSOPHY; including Theoretical and Practical Ethics. By 
Joseph Haven, D. D. 12mo, cloth. S1.25. 

THE EARTH AND 3L4.N ; Lectures on Comparative Physical Geography 
in its relation to the History of Mankind. By Arnold Guyot. 12mo, 
cloth. ^ $1.25. 

THE ELEMENTS OF GEOLOGY;- adapted to Schools and Colleges. 
With numerous Illustrations. By J. R. LooMis, President of Lewisburg 
University. 12mo, cloth. 75 cents. 

PRINCIPLES OF ZO OLOGY; for the use of Schools and Colleges. With 
numerous Illustrations. By Louis Agassiz and Augustus A. Gould, 
M. D. r2mo, cloth. $1.00. 

PALEY'S NATURAL THEOLOGY. Illustrated by forty Plates. Edited 
by John Ware, M. D. 12mo, cloth. $1.25. 

GUYOT' S MURAL MAPS; A series of elegant colored maps, exhibiting th(» 
Physical Phenomena of the Globe. 

MAP OF THE WORLD, mounted. $10.00 

MAP OF NORTH AMERICA, mounted. $9.00. 

MAP OF SOUTH AMERICA, mounted. $9.00. 

MAP OF GEOGRAPHICAL ELEJIENTS, mounted. $9.00. 

GEOLOGICAL MAP OF THE UNITED STATES AND BRITISH 
PROVINCES; with Gv.'o!og!cal Sections and Fossil Plates. By Jules 

Marcou. 2 vols., 8vo, cloth. $3.00. 

(4:3) 



GOUI.n^Nn IJNGOLN, 

69 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, 

Would call particular attention to the following valuable works described 
in their Catalogue of Publications, viz. : 

Hugh. Miller's Works. 

Bayne's V7orks. Walker's Works. Miall's Works. Bimgener's Work. 

Annnal of Scientific Discovery. Knight's Knowledge is Power. 

Krummacher's Suffering Saviour, 

Banvard'3 American Histories. The Aimwell Stories. 

jNcwcomb's Works. Tweedie's Works. Chambers's Works. Harris' Work-at- 

Kitto's CyclopaJdia of Biblical Literature. 

Mrs. Knight's Life of Montgomery. Kitto's History of Palestine. 

Whewell's Work. Wayland's Works. Agassiz's Works. 




4i.r.'Syif/-rM..Tit. 



Williams' Works. Guyot's Works. 

Thompson's Better Land. Kimball's Heaven. Valuable Works on Missions. 

Haven's Mental Philosophy. Buchanan's Modern Atheism. 

Cruden's Condensed Concordance. Eadie's Analytical Concordance« 

The Psalmist : a Collection of Hymns. 

Valuable School Books. Works for Sabbath Schools. 

Memoir of Amos Lawrence. 

Poetical Works of Milton, Cowper, Scott. Elegant Miniature Volumes. 

Arvine's CyclopECdia of Anecdotes. 

Biplcy's Notes on Gospels, Acts, and Pi.omans. 

Sprague's European Celebrities. Marsh's Camel and the Hallig. 

Bogct's Thesaurus of English Words. 

Hackett's Notes on Acts. M'Whorter's Yahvch Christ. 

gieoold and Stauuius's Comparative Anatomy. Marcou's Geological Map, U. S. 

Religious and Miscellaneous Works. 

Works in the varioi"-a Departments of Literature, Science and Art, 



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